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Stratton,  Joseph  B.  1815- 

1903. 
A  pastor's  valedictory 


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PASTOR'S  VALEDICTORY 


A  SELECTION  OF 

EARLY  SERMONS 

FROM  THE  MANUSCRIPTS 
OF  THE 

REV.  JOSEPH  B.  STRATTON,  D.  D. 


PASTOR  OF  THE 

PRESBYTERIAN    CHURCH, 

FROM  A.  D.  1843  TO  A.  D.  1894, 
NATCHEZ,   MISS. 


NATClIBii,   MISS. 

NATCHKZ  PRINTING  &  STATIONEKY  CO. 

18  9  O. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

Preface 7 

The  Kingship  of  Christ 9 

Holiness  of  God 25 

The  Heavenly  Citizen 41 

Jacob's  Ladder 56 

The    SyRo-PH(ENiciAN  Woman 70 

The  Lily  of  the  Field 85 

The  Seat  of  Sin 102 

The  Penitent,   Illustrated 117 

Incomprehensible  Things 133 

The  Shunammite's  Reply 148 

The  Love  op  God 163 

The  Saved  Malefactor 179 

The  Shepherds'  Tents 193 

The  Walk  to  Emmaus 211 

Martha,  The  Busy  House-Keeper 227 

The  Denial  of  Moses'  Prayer 242 

The  Deadness  of  the  Pleasure-Seeker 254 

Increase  of  Faith 270 

Finding  the  Messias 286 

Enduringness  of  God's  Mercy 300 

The  Patriarch's  Retrospect  . . 315 


PREFACE. 


THE  motive  which  lias  led,  in  great  part,  to  the  publish- 
ing  of    this   volume,    has  been    the    repugnance    of    the 

author  to  destroy  the  material  of  which  it  is  composed. 
Manuscript  sermons  are  a  most  uncomfortable  legacy  to  be 
left  to  a  minister's  family.  There  is  a  sort  of  sacredness 
about  them  which  deters  his  discendants  from  l)urying  them 
in  the  waste-basket,  or  consigning  them  to  the  flames. 
They  cannot  be  set  to  work  again,  through  another  man's 
lips;  for  that  is  literary  larceny.  The  end  of  all  discussion 
over  the  disposal  of  them  is  that  they  are  decentl}'  wrapped 
up  in  packages  and  laid  away  to  shrivel  in  a  garret  or 
moulder  in  a  cellar. 

The  author,  in  making  his  preparation  for  his  final 
departure  from  his  earthly  home,  had  actually  proceeded  a 
considerable  length  in  this  work  of  demolition,  and  heaps 
upon  heaps  of  notes,  skeletons,  scripture  studies,  and  even 
manuscripts  of  sermons,  fully  written  out,  had  been  reduced 
to  ashes,  when  his  work  was  arrested  by  certain  pangs  of 
compunction,  and  by  the  reflection  that  tho'  the  truth  which 
lay  enshrined  in  those  pages  had  grown  dumb,  it  could 
still  be  made  to  make  itself  heard,  to  a  limited  extent, 
through  a  printed  message. 

There  was  still,  a  further  thought  which  enforced  the 
putting  of  some  of  these  sermons  in  print.  It  was  that 
they  had  been  preached  in  the  earlier  years  of  the  author's 
protracted  ministry.  The  grandfathers  and  grandmothers  of 
the    extant    generation    had    listened    to    them    as    they    fell 


»  A    PASTOR  S    VALEDICTORY. 

from  the  living  voice.  A  tender  fascination  coupled  itself 
with  the  idea  of  preaching  over  again,  through  the  press, 
to  the  grandchildren  of  to-day,  the  identical  discourses  once 
delivered  to  their  ancestors. 

In  the  selection  of  the  subjects,  the  aim  of  the  author 
has  been  to  secure  as  large  a  variety  as  the  size  of  the 
volume  contemplated  would  allow,  and  to  present  such  di- 
versit}'  of  st3'le  and  method  as  might  contribute  to  the 
spiritual  good  of  all  classes  of  readers. 

I  call  this  book  "A  Pastors  Valedictory,"  for  it  is,  in 
all  human  probability,  the  last  act  I  shall  perform  under 
my  commission  as  a  minister  of  Christ.  The  closing  daj's 
of  ray  eighty-fourth  3'ear,  with  the  multiplied  infirmities 
which  are  sapping'  stone  after  stone  from  the  material 
fabric,  remind  me  that  m}'  active  warfare  is  almost  accom- 
plished. 

May  He  who  gives  the  early  and  the  latter  rain  bless 
with  His  grace  this  Autumnal  Sowing. 


JOS.   B.   STRATTON. 


"Sunset  Lo(J(/e," 

Natchez,  Miss.,  December  1899. 


THE  KINGSHIP  OF  CHRIST. 

DECEMBER  27,  1857. 


"He  shall  be  great,  and  shall  be  called  the  Son  of  the  Highest; 
and  the  Lord  God  shall  give  him  the  throne  of  his  father  David; 
and  he  shall  reign  over  the  house  of  David  forever,  and  of  his 
kingdom  there  shall  be  no  end." — Luke  1:32.33. 


THIS  cluster  of  promises,  twined  about  the  bead  of  the 
as  yet  unborn  child  of  Mary,   ruarlied  bim    out   as    tbe 

Messiah — tbe  mysterious  "Anointed  one,"  who  had 
been  pledged  to  Israel  from  tbe  earliest  periods  of  their 
history,  for  tbe  terms  used  by  tbe  Angel  are  identical  with 
those  which  bad  been  immemorially  employed  by  tbe  Jews 
whenever  they  expressed  their  idea,  or  their  expectation  of 
a  Messiah.  Tbe  fact  and  state  of  Kingship  were  insepara- 
ble from  their  conception  of  Christ.  Recall  that  spontane- 
ous outburst  of  conviction  wbicb  followed  that  miraculous 
feeding  of  tbe  five  thousand  men  on  tbe  shore  of  tbe  Sea 
of  Gralilee.  Tbe  multitude  confessed  with  one  voice  "this 
is  of  a  truth  that  prophet  that  should  come  into  the 
world;"  and  as  a  token  of  their  faith;  and  with  a  view  to 
realize  consistently  and  fully,  tbe  fact  wbicb  their  faith 
bad  embraced,  they  were  about  to  take  Jesus  by  violence, 
and  make  bim  a  King — His  Kingship,  as  they  understood 
it,   was  the  verification  of  his  Messiabship. 

And  they  bad  unquestionably  tbe  authority  of  their 
Scriptures  for  thinking  so.  Jacob,  their  forefather,  bad  fore- 
told that  the  Scepter  of  Judab  should  be  perpetuated  in  tbe 


10  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

hands  of  Shiloh,  and  that  unto  liim  should  the  gathenng 
of  the  people  be.  David  in  Psalm  II  had  recorded  the 
Divine  decree,  "I  have  set  my  King  upon  my  holy  hill  of 
Zion. "  Isaiah  had  written,  "unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto 
us  a  son  is  given;  and  the  government  shall  be  upon  his 
shoulder.  Of  the  increase  of  his  government  and  peace, 
there  shall  be  no  end;  upon  the  throne  of  David  and  upon 
his  kingdom,  to  order  it,  and  to  establish  it  with  judgment, 
and  with  justice  from  hence  forth,  even  forever."  Jeremiah 
had  written,  "behold,  the  day  shall  come,  saith  the  Lord, 
that  I  will  raise  unto  David  a  righteous  branch,  and  a  King 
shall  reign  and  prosper,  and  shall  execute  judgment  and 
justice  in  the  earth."  Zachariah  had  written,  "Rejoice 
greatly  0  daughter  of  Zion — shout  0  daughter  of  Jerusalem 
— behold  thy  King  cometh  unto  thee;  he  is  just  and  having 
salvation;"  and  Micah  had  written,  of  Bethlehem,  the  City 
of  David,  that  though  "little  among  the  thousands  of  Israel, 
yet  out  of  her  shall  come  forth  he  that  was  to  be  ruler  in 
Israel."  These  are  only  a  part  of  the  many  intimations  to 
be  found  in  the  Old  Testament  Scriptures  of  the  fact,  that 
the  Messiah  was  to  be  a  King;  and  the  Jews  were  certainly 
right  in  adopting  the  principle  by  which  they  tested  our 
Savior's  claim  to  the  Messiahship — "No  King — no  Messiah." 
The  correctness  of  this  principle,  our  Lord  himself  ad- 
mitted, as  do  his  Apostles,  in  all  their  teachings  concerning 
him.  In  claiming  to  be  the  Messiah,  he  claimed  to  be  a 
King;  and  such  a  King  as  the  Scriptures  had  said  the  Mes- 
siah should  be.  At  the  beginning  of  his  ministry  we  hear 
Nathanael  acknowledging  him  in  such  terms  as  these,  "Rabbi 
thou  art  the  Son  of  God — thou  art  King  of  Israel;"  and 
Jesus  evidently  commends  this  profession  of  his  faith,  in  the 
form  in  which  it  was  expressed.  And  so,  near  the  close  of 
his  ministry,  when  Jesus  stood  before  the  governor,  and  the 
governor  asked  him,    "Art  thou  the  King  of  the  Jews,"  he 


THE    KINGSHIP    OP   CHRIST.  11 

replies,  "thou  sayest  it" — a  distinct  and  public  affirmation 
of  his  claim  to  the  office.  "My  KingJiom;"  "my  throne;" 
"my  servants,"  are  phrases  which  occur  repeatedly  in  his  con- 
versations and  addresses;  and  when  he  hung  upon  the  cross, 
the  taunt  of  his  enemies  (evidently  in  derision  of  that  which 
had  been  the  foremost  of  his  pretentions  as  they  deemed 
them)  was  "if  he  be  the  King  of  Israel,  let  him  now  come 
down  from  the  cross,  and  we  will  believe  him."  And  so 
after  his  ascension,  his  apostles  in  passages  altogether  too 
numerous  to  be  quoted,  reiterate  the  same  decutration,  that 
Jesus,  as  the  Messiah,  was  a  King.  From  the  day  of  Pen- 
tecost, when  Peter  declared  to  the  Jews  that  David  in  the 
sixteenth  Psalm  had  foretold  his  resurrection  "knowing  that 
God  had  sworn  with  an  oath  to  him  that  of  the  fruit  of  his 
loins,  according  to  the  flesh,  he  would  raise  up  Christ  to  sit 
on  his  throne,"  to  the  end  of  the  inspired  record  in  which 
John  represents  him  in  the  vision  which  he  had  of  him  in 
Patmos  as  having  on  his  vesture  and  on  his  thigh  a  name 
written,  "King  of  Kings  and  Lord  of  Lords;"  there  is  no 
variation  in  their  testimony.  As  they  everywhere  preached 
Jesus  as  the  Messiah,  so  they  everywhere  proclaimed  him  as 
a  King.  If  the  words  of  the  Angel  to  the  Virgin  Mary 
then  were  true  words  (and  we  cannot  admit  any  other  thought 
concerning  tkem),  we  must  find  in  the  Child,  who  in  due 
time  appeared  as  her  offspring,  something  which  can  be  said 
to  sustain  his  title  to  the  name  and  office  of  a  King — 
something  which  will  correspond  with  and  fulfill  that  very 
extraordinary  form  of  kingly  rank  and  power  which  is  por- 
trayed in  the  Angel's  words,  "the  Lord  God  shall  give  unto 
him  the  throne  of  his  father  David,  and  he  shall  reign  over 
the  house  of  Jacob  forever — and  of  his  kingdom  there  shall 
be  no  end." 

And  yet,  it  must  be  confessed,  that  the  last  thing  which 
one  would  have  suspected  concerning  the  child  born  to  Mary, 


12  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

or  conceraiag  the  man,  into  whom  that  child  grew,  as  he  ap- 
peared during  his  sojourn  upon  earth,  was  that  he  was  a 
King.  You  may  look  at  him  in  any  of  the  positions  almost 
in  which  he  appears  from  his  nativity  to  his  crucifixion,  and 
you  will  say  probably,  "were  such  claims  associated  with 
such  circumstances  in  any  other  person,  we  should  be  con- 
strained to  smile  at  the  childishness,  or  pity  the  insanity  of 
his  pretentions."  Is  this  a  royal  infant,  you  would  ask,  who 
is  opening  his  eyes  to  the  light  in  a  manger  and  is  hushed 
to  his  first  slumber  in  a  stable  in  Bethlehem?  Surely  noth- 
ing less  than  an  embassy  of  angels,  such  as  visited  the  shep- 
herds, or  a  sign  as  illustrious  as  the  star  that  appeared  to 
the  wise  men  of  the  East,  could  have  convinced  one  of  this. 
And  is  that  a  royal  youth,  you  would  ask,  who  for  long 
years  was  so  identified  m  condition  with  the  family  of  a 
poor  mechanic  of  Nazareth,  that  the  public,  so  far  as  they 
were  cognizant  of  his  existence  at  all,  knew  him  as  only 
"Joseph,  the  carpenter's  son?"  Or  is  this  a  monarch,  a  man 
of  royal  rank,  who  during  the  time  that  he  did  draw  the 
attention  of  the  public  to  him,  was  noticeable  mainly  for  his 
singular  lack  of  everything  which  constitutes  kingly  state ;  for 
his  lowliness  of  mind,  his  poverty,  his  privations,  his  toils,  for 
his  sympathy  with  the  humble  and  the  weak,  for  his  want  of 
popularity  or  political  influence,  and  finally  for  the  violent 
and  ignominous  form  of  his  death?  Not  under  such  aspects 
does  the  royalty  of  this  world  appear,  nor  by  such  tokens 
does  it  ordinarily  hope  to  gain  credit  for  its  claims.  But 
still  the  highest  testimony  that  we  can  appeal  to  in  any 
case,  that  which  forbids  all  suspicion  and  all  dissent,  says  of 
this  child,  this  youth,  this  man,  that  he  was  a  King.  How 
shall  we  harmonize  the  apparently  discordant  elements  in 
this  problem?  What  theory  can  arrange  these  seemingly  dis- 
orderly materials? 

"We  may  begin  the  attempt  to  answer  these  questions  by 


THE    KINGSHIP    OF    CHRIST.  13 

remarking  that  Christ  as  a  King  is  not  obliged  to  appear 
under  those  outward  forms  in  which  the  Kings  of  the  earth 
embody  and  exhibit  their  office.  Though  he  sits  upon  the 
throne  of  David,  he  does  not  owe  his  kingship  to  that  throne. 
It  does  not  follow  that  unlikencss  in  form  to  the  Kings  of 
the  earth  disproves  the  fact  of  his  being  a  King.  By 
no  means;  tor  what  if  we  should  find  the  reality  of  the 
thmg  called  kingship,  in  Christ,  rather  than  in  these  human 
representatives  of  it?  What  if  the  caricature  of  the  thing, 
if  caricature  there  be  in  either  case,  should  be  found  in 
them  rather  than  in  him? 

These  questions  are  not  proposed  at  random.  They 
point  to  what  I  suppose  to  be  a  great  truth  enveloped  in  the- 
mystery  of  the  world's  history;  and  that  is,  that  Christ  is 
the  only  real  King  that  the  world  has  ever  seen;  and  that 
the  institution  of  the  kingship  as  it  is  found  amongst  men, 
is  only  a  dim  and  often  a  monstrous  adumbration  of  the 
fact  of  kingship  as  destined  to  be  developed  by  Christ. 
Earthly  thrones  and  governments  are  similitudes  or  types; 
showing  first,  man's  need  of  something,  and  secondly,  God's 
purpose  to  give  him  something,  which  shall  realize  the  bless- 
ing sought  for  under  the  institution  of  the  kingship.  David, 
as  a  King,  we  know,  was  a  shadow  of  him  who  was  to  come, 
that  is,  Christ;  and  so,  I  suppose,  are  all  others  who  have 
borne  that  royal  office.  David,  to  be  a  King,  must  array 
himself  in  the  appendages  ot  royalty;  for  men  who  judge  the 
substance  by  the  symbol,  the  fact  by  the  form,  cannot  dis- 
cern royalty  apart  from  its  appendages.  And  other  Kings 
make  good  their  claim  to  royalty  by  the  same  expedient. 
But  the  King,  after  all,  is  something  distinct  from  his  re- 
galia. He  is  the  center  and  the  soul,  the  depository  and 
the  dispenser,  of  the  organic  life  of  the  State.  He  is  the 
index  and  the  regulator  of  its  order;  and  the  order  of  a 
State   is   inseparable   from  the   life   of  a   State.      It   is   the 


14  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

mode  and  condition  under  which  its  life  sustains  itself,  and 
acts  itself  forth.  A  State  without  order  is  a  State  in  an- 
archy— which  is  no  State  at  all.  The  Kings  of  the  earth  are 
the  visible  representatives  of  that  order  which  the  earth  is 
ever  seeking  after,  as  its  greatest  blessing;  and  the  Kings 
of  the  earth  have  been  given  to  it  by  God,  as  a  sign  and 
pledge  that  the  blessing  it  wants  is  something  which  it  is 
his  purpose  to  grant  it.  Thus  says  the  apostle,  '-the  pow- 
ers that  be  are  ordained  of  God,  whosoever  therefore  resist- 
eth  the  power  resisteth  the  ordinance  of  God."  The  impos- 
ing appendages  with  which  we  are  accustomed  to  invest 
"the  powers  that  be"  are  only  designed  to  help  us  to  recog- 
nize them,  and  feel,  so  to  speak,  their  presence  and  author- 
ity. These  things  are  not  ordained  of  God;  but  the  powers 
themselves  are.  By  whatever  name  distinguished,  or  in 
whatever  mould  cast,  the  kingship,  the  governing  soul  or 
center,  the  index  and  regulator  of  the  order  of  the  State  is 
ordained  of  God. 

But  is  this  human  kingship  the  final,  the  perfect  form 
of  the  institution?  Does  it  meet  the  need  which  called  for 
such  an  institution?  Does  it  represent  and  realize  fully, 
that  ideal  which  has  ever  floated  before  the  minds  of  all  who 
have  attempted  to  solve  the  problem,  or  demonstrate  the 
model  of  government?  No,  we  answer — and  it  never  will. 
Christ,  according  to  the  Scriptures,  is  the  world's  King; 
and  the  history  of  the  Kings  of  the  world,  so  called,  has 
been  but  another  volum'i  of  prophecy,  echoing  the  voice  of 
Scripture,  and  proclaiming  to  the  groaning  creation,  that 
Christ  is  its  King. 

The  sovereigns  of  the  earth  are  but  toys,  phantasms, 
mimic  monarchs;  xroeping  alive  in  the  world  the  hope  and 
the  expectation  of  a  true  kingship,  but  never  gratifying  that 
hope  and  expectation;  and  constituting,  as  they  are  the  or- 
dinance of  God,   a    token  from    God  that  the    true  kingship 


THE    KINGSHIP    OF    CHRIST.  15 

shall  ultimately  appear.  They  are  the  image  ot  a  great  real- 
ity, in  and  bj'  which,  all  the  benefits  which  they  seem  to 
promise  and  seem  to  create,  shall  be,  in  truth  and  in  fact, 
conferred  upon  the  world. 

Now,  if  there  be  any  ground  for  the  conception  which 
I  have  hinted  at,  we  can  see  that  there  is  no  necessity 
whatever  for  the  true  kingship  copying  after  the  model  of 
the  kingship  adopted  amongst  men.  That  is  not  the  model, 
not  the  true  thing,  but  only  a  copy  more  or  less  accurate. 
And  if  Christ  be  the  introducer  of.  the  true  kingship,  it  is 
no  impeachment  of  his  claim  in  any  degree,  that  he  does 
not  appear  under  the  form  of  the  world's  kingship.  Though 
judging  by  the  appendages  ot  royalt}',  as  it  is  exhibited 
amongst  men,  he  would  not  be  pronounced  a  King,  he  may 
be  a  King  nevertheless;  and  these  other  examples  of  the 
office  with  all  their  imposing  insignia  may  be  but  poor  imi- 
tations of  it;  nay,  they  may  be  but  a  cariacature  of  the 
thing  called  kingship. 

Let  us  see,  now,  by  what  facts,  if  any  there  be,  tliis 
claim  of  Christ  to  the  true  kingship  of  the  world  can  be  sus- 
tained. And  in  this  inquiry  it  is  obviously  legitimate  that 
the  whole  history  of  Christ  should  be  inspected  so  far  as  it 
bears  upon  his  relation  to  our  world.  With  the  Scriptures 
in  our  hands,  his  personal  ministry  in  the  flesh  is  but  a  part 
of  this  history.  There  are  pages,  or  volumes  of  it,  to  be 
read  prior  to  his  advent  as  the  child  of  Mary;  and  there  are 
other  pages  or  volumes  ot  it  to  be  read  subsequent  to  his 
ascension.  From  all  that  we  know  of  Christ's  agency  in  and 
upon  our  world,  we  are  to  look  for  the  evidence  which  is  to 
determine  his  right  to  the  title  and  office  of  King. 

First  then,  we  have  the  fact  presented  to  us  that  he  ap- 
peared in  our  world,  out  of  a  pre-existent  state,  in  virtue  of 
his  appointment  as  Mediator  between  God  and  man.  The 
great  work  of  peacemaker,  reconciliator  of  our  apostate  race 


16  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

to  their  Divine  Father  and  Supreme  Liege,  was  what  brought 
him  to  this  earth.  And  to  effect  this  object,  to  be  a  com- 
plete Mediator,  we  are  taught  that  it  was  necessary  that  he 
should  unite  in  one  person  the  nature  of  God  and  the  nature 
of  man.  And  so,  being  the  Son  of  God,  in  which  character 
he  says,  "I  and  the  Father  are  one;"  and  it  is  said  of  him, 
"he  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with  God,"  he  be- 
came the  son  of  man,  by  being  boi'n  of  the  Virgin  Mary, 
in  which  character  he  could  be  said  "to  be  touched  with  a 
feeling  of  our  infirmities^'  being  tempted  in  all  points  like  as 
we  are,  yet  without  sin;"  so  that  in  him,  all  the  conditions  of 
humanity,  which  are  sinless,  even  the  most  painful  and  hu- 
miliating were  fulfilled.  He  was  therefore  in  the  world  as 
the  "Word"  (which  says  the  Evangelist  John)  was  God 
"made  flesh."  He  was  here  as  "Immanuel;"  that  is,  "God 
with  us."  In  his  person  God  is  brought  into  communion, 
association,  fellowship  with  men,  dwells  with  them,  acts  with 
them  in  the  same  sphere.  For,  says  the  Evangelist  again, 
"the  Word,  made  flesh,  dxoelt  among  us,  and  we  beheld  his 
glory,  the  glory  of  the  only  begotten  of  the  Father,  full  of 
grace  and  truth."  Now,  God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  which  is 
the  proper  description  of  the  Mediator,  describes  at  once, 
one,  who,  in  reference  to  the  flesh,  the  humanity,  the  species 
of  being,  with  which  he  had  identified  himself,  is  entitled 
to  take  the  position  and  assume  the  authority  of  a  King. 
His  Divinity  is  by  its  nature  a  title  to  the  office.  God  man- 
ifest in  the  flesh  is  the  manifestation  of  one  amongst  men, 
who  wherever  he  appears  must  be  acknowledged  as  a  King — 
the  great  King,  by  whom  mere  human  kings  rule,  who  has 
ordained  "the  powers  that  be"  that  they  may  be  his  minis- 
ters, and  that  they,  in  their  feeble  measure  of  power  and 
glory,  may  image  forth  his  own  infinite  kingship.  In  the 
fact  then,  that  Christ  came  into  the  world  as  Mediator, 
and  that  in  this  character  he  carried  with  him,  in  union  with 


THE    KINGSHIP    OF    CHRIST.  17 

his  human  nature,  a  Diviue  nature,  so  chat  in  his  person  he 
was  truly  God  as  well  as  man ;  we  see  that  the  kingship  of 
the  world  necessarily  devolved  upon  him.  He  as  truly  sub- 
verted or  absorbed,  or  overwhelmed  all  other  forms  of  it  by 
his  mere  presence  as  the  sun  in  the  heavens  extinguishes 
the  stars.  No  matter  in  what  form  of  humanity,  or  under 
what  set  of  circumstances  he  appeared,  so  long  as  it  could 
be  said  of  him  "in  him  God  is  manifest  in  the  flesh"  he 
was  a  King.  And  hence  the  prophet  Isaiah  employs  the 
gradation  which  is  discernable  in  his  prediction  of  him  be- 
fore quoted  from  his  ninth  chapter,  speaking  of  him,  first, 
as  the  "child  born,"  and  then,  as  one  upon  whose  shoulder 
"the  government  should  be  laid,"  and  then  as  one  whose 
name  should  be  called  "Wonderful,  Counsellor,  the  mighty 
Grod,  the  everlasting  Father,  the  Prince  of  Peace."  Though 
he  was  to  appear  as  the  first,  3'et  he  was  the  second,  that 
IS,  a  King,  because  he  was  still  the  third,  that  is,  as  being 
entitled  to  bear  the  names  by  which  Deity  expresses  its  es- 
sential and  incommunicable  perfections. 

And  now  resting  his  claim  to  the  kingship  upon  this 
mysterious  fact,  which  his  history  brings  to  light,  the  Scrip- 
tures, I  proceed  to  remark,  give  us  further  evidence  of  the 
propriety  of  that  claim,  in  the  regal  attributes  or  the  quali- 
fications for  the  kingship  with  which  he  is  represented  as 
endowed.  Indications  of  these  he  gave,  again  and  again, 
while  he  was  upon  earth.  Could  some  philosophical  philan- 
thropist, whose  soul  was  yearning  for  the  appearance,  on  the 
behalf  of  a  misruled  and  groaning  world,  of  his  ideal  King, 
have  followed  Christ  through  his  career,  and  intelligently 
marked  the  shining  array  of  virtues  and  talents  which  his 
life  evolved,  and  noticed  how  adequately  they  met  every  de- 
mand and  exigency;  how  steadily  they  maintained  their  lus- 
tre and  their  power  under  all  circumstances;  how  under  an 
endless  variety    of  phases  they  ever   exhibited  the  same  ce- 


18  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

lestial  purity,  and  the  same  glorious  perfection;  he  would 
have  said  "0  could  these  virtues  and  these  talents  but  meet 
in  some  occupant  of  a  throne!  O  were  Csesar  but  a  Jesus, 
my  dream  would  be  fulfilled,  my  ideal  king  would  be  no 
more  a  vision  of  the  imagination,  but  a  living  reality!" 
When  the  Psalmist  would  describe  the  royal  attributes  of 
God,  he  says,  "justice  and  judgment  are  the  habitation  of 
thy  throne,  mercy  and  truth  shall  go  before  thy  face;"  and 
just  these  things,  we  may  say,  that  is,  integrity  which  even 
his  bitterest  enemies  could  not  convict  of  a  single  failure; 
wisdom,  which  withstood  the  assaults  of  the  wiliest  tempt- 
ers; truth,  which  was  never  marred  by  the  shadow  of  decep- 
tion in  himself,  and  which  never  left  deception  in  others 
unrebuked;  benevolence,  which  knew  no  self,  and  which  of- 
fered life  itself  as  a  sacrifice  for  the  good  of  others;  just 
these  things  we  should  select  as  those  which  gave  the  char- 
acter of  Christ,  its  peculiar  type  and  its  unapproachable  ex- 
cellence. 

But  this  is  only  the  furniture  of  his  kingship  exhibited, 
so  to  speak,  through  the  medium  of  his  humanity,  and  on 
the  partial  scale,  required  by  the  condition  of  his  residence 
upon  earth.  These  royal  gifts  have  found  the  destination 
which  the  philosophic  philanthropist  would,  as  I  have  con- 
jectured, have  desired  to  give  them.  They  have  been  ex- 
alted to  a  throne,  for  "him"  says  she  apostle  "hath  God 
exalted  to  be  a  Prince  and  a  Saviour."  The  history  of  the 
Mediator  does  not  terminate  with  the  history  of  his  humili- 
ation. He  has  gone  up  again  to  the  heavens  from  which 
he  descended  when  he  was  made  flesh  and  dwelt  among  us; 
and  now  ever  liveth  at  the  right  hand  of  the  majesty  on  high, 
clothed  with  the  perfections,  which  while  here  graced  his 
humanity;  but  which  there,  unrestricted  by  the  conditions 
in  which  his  humanity  here  appeared,  can  be  exercised  in 
all  the  boundless  scope,   and  in  all   the  matchless  efficiency, 


THE    KINGSHIP   OF    CHRIST.  19 

of  the  attributes  of  Grod.  He  who  sits  at  the  right  hand  of 
the  majesty  on  high,  has  all  the  kingly  prerogatives  and  en- 
dowments at  his  command  which  dwell  in  that  right  hand. 
"In  him,"  says  the  apostle,  "dwelleth  all  the  fulness  of  the 
Godhead  bodily. "  What  the  kingship  of  the  world  demands 
therefore  in  the  person  who  claims  it,  in  order  that  it  may 
be  a  reality  and  not  a  mockery,  I  say  is  completely  found 
and  fulfilled  in  Christ. 

And  now  in  the  third  place,  I  remark  that  as  he  has 
the  title  to  the  kingship,  and  the  qualifications  for  it,  so  he 
has  a  kingdom,  a  body  of  subjects  over  whom  he  exercises 
his  kingship.  "He  shall  reign,"  said  the  angel  to  Mary, 
"over  the  house  of  Jacob,"  but  the  house  of  Jacob,  we 
know  from  other  passages  of  Scripture,  means  what  the  an- 
cient Israel  represented,  the  Church.  Christ  has  a  people  in 
the  world  who  acknowledge  him  as  King.  No  matter  to 
what  earthly  sovereign  they  profess  allegiance,  no  matter 
where,  under  the  dynasties  and  governments  of  the  world, 
they  may  live,  Christ's  crown,  in  their  view,  is  the  crown 
of  crowns.  No  human  king  is  king  to  them  when  his  king- 
ship comes  in  conflict  with  the  kingship  of  Christ.  As  the 
man  plants  the  acorns,  which  in  the  slow  lapse  of  years, 
shall  appear  in  the  landscape  as  a  forest  of  giant  oaks,  so 
Christ  during  his  mission  as  Mediator  to  our  world  intro- 
duced into  it  the  elements  which  in  their  operation  upon  the 
souls  of  men  have  wrought  a  phenomenon  quite  as  signal  as 
the  rearing  of  the  forest,  where,  before,  was  a  vacant  field. 
He  has  made  a  body  of  men  new  creatures  in  himself;  he 
has  made  that  which  was  flesh,  spirit;  he  has  converted  the 
children  of  the  devil  into  the  children  of  God;  he  has 
raised  up  in  the  world  and  out  of  the  world,  a  generation 
of  whom  he  can  say,  "ye  are  not  of  the  world,  even  as  I 
am  not  of  the  world."  In  this  kingdom  he  reigns  supreme. 
He  is  its  Mediator — King,  and  the  royalty  which  binds  it  to 


20  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

him  is  strong  and  deep  as  the  life-strings  of  the  heart  in 
which  it  resides.  What  we  call  the  visible  Church  repre- 
sents this  kingdom,  but  it  really  consists  of  all,  wheresoever 
found,  who  in  virtue  of  his  mediation  have  been  redeemed 
to  God  and  sanctified  by  his  spirit;  and  in  this  true  church, 
Christ  has  recorded  in  the  world's  history,  in  all  ages,  the 
fact  that  he  is  King. 

But  the  Scriptures  teach  much  more  than  that  Christ 
reigns  in  his  church.  He  reigns  also  for  the  church.  He 
is  King  in  regard  to  whatsoever  concerns  the  church.  He 
commands  and  controls  whatsoever  can  affect  the  church. 
Thus  he  is  said  to  be  "head  over  all  things  to  the  church." 
The  world,  out  of  which  the  church  is  gathered,  and  in  which 
it  exists,  is  not  independent  of  his  dominion,  and  is  under 
his  regimen,  for  the  sake  of  the  church.  It  does  not  tol- 
erate the  church,  but  it  is  tolerated  on  account  of  the  church. 
It  was  made  for  Christ's  kingdom ;  it  is  preserved  in  order 
to  the  completion  of  his  kingdom;  and  when  it  is  needed 
no  more  for  his  kingdom's  sake,  it  will  exist  no  more. 
And  while  it  stands,  it  has  no  power  in  an  atom  of  it  to 
move  against  his  consent,  or  his  bidding,  and  is  working 
together  in  all  its  parts  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  me- 
diatorial purposes,  and  for  good  to  them  that  love  God  and 
are  the  called  according  to  his  purpose.  Hence  his  promise 
in  regard  to  the  church  "the  gates  of  hell  shall  not  prevail 
against  it." 

And  so  he  is  king  in  regard  to  whatsoever  is  connected 
with  the  mission  end  of  the  church;  "I  am  with  you  al- 
ways," he  said  to  his  apostles  when  he  gave  them  the  charge 
to  go  and  make  disciples  of  all  nations;  and  this  word,  "I 
am  with  you  always,"  dwelling  as  it  does  as  an  ever  living 
promise  in  the  bosom  of  the  church,  is  a  security  that  his 
kingship  is  ever  co-operating  with  the  church.  He  is  reign- 
ing over  the  world  and  in  the  world,  for  the  furtherance  of 


THE    KINGSHIP    OF    CHRIST.  21 

the  work  ot  the  church.  Just  as  he  is  said  to  have  been 
in  the  church  of  okl  "in  the  wilderness,"  and  just  as  he 
opened  the  sea,  and  made  the  rock  gush  with  water,  and 
tiie  heavens  rain  down  manna,  and  the  walls  of  hostile  cities 
fall  to  the  ground,  and  the  hearts  of  brave  armies  quail  be- 
fore the  terror  of  his  presence;  for  their  deliverance  and 
their  triumph,  so  still,  he  is  in  the  midst  of  the  Sacramen- 
tal host  of  his  elect.  And  though  their  wanderings  may 
seem  long,  and  their  victory  and  their  inheritance  seem  to 
tarry  strangely  in  their  coming,  j^et,  as  surely  as  Israel 
reached  the  promised  land,  Christ,  the  King,  in  the  great- 
ness of  his  strength  will  travel  with  his  church,  till  he  and 
she  together  shall  cross  the  last  entrenchment  of  the  ene- 
my, and  trample  the  ruins  of  the  last  stronghold  of  Satan 
beneath  their  feet.  Such  then,  is  his  kingdom,  the  church; 
and  the  world  so  far  as  it  is  regarded  as  the  scene  and 
the  subject  of  the  church's  operation. 

And  now,  there  is  one  particular  more,  which  I  will 
glance  at  as  confirming  and  illustrating  this  kingship  of 
Christ — though  it  has  been  to  some  degree  anticipated  in 
what  I  have  just  said — and  that  is,  that  he  appears  in  the 
world  actually  exercising  the  office  and  performing  the  acts 
of  a  King.  His  agency  as  seen  in  the  world  is  such,  so  to 
speak,  as  indicates  a  kingly  policy.  For  instance  he  is  a 
law-giver.  He  commands  with  absolute  authority  the  con- 
science of  his  subjects.  To  disobey  hira  is  more  than  a 
political  crime,  it  is  a  moral  offence,  it  is  sin,  it  is  wrong- 
doing before  God,  which  God  will  judge  and  punish. 
You  might  make  a  blank  of  all  the  statute  books  promulgated 
by  human  legislators,  you  might  abolish  your  courts  of  jus- 
tice, and  pull  down  your  prisons,  and  yet,  there  are  men  in 
the  world  who  would  feel  themselves  as  much  under  law  as 
ever — men  who  would  turn  away  from  certain  practices  and 
indulgences  with  as  much  dread  as  if  the  interdict  of  Sinai's 


22  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

thunder  were  bidding  tliem  beware.  They  are  the  men  of 
Christ's  kingdom;  and  they  would  do  this  because  they  re- 
cognize the  obligation  and  sanctity  of  his  law,  as  something 
apart  from  and  above  the  enactments  of  human  legislators. 
So  truly,  so  effectively,  by  this  kingly  law,  this  imperial 
word,   he  governs  his  people. 

And  then  further,  while  governing  them,  he  defends 
them.  They  follow  him  as  his  sheep,  and  he  as  their  shep- 
herd protects  them  against  all  their  enemies.  '-I  give  unto 
them  eternal  life,"  he  says,  "and  they  shall  never  perish; 
neither  shall  any  pluck  them  out  of  my  hands."  "Who 
shall  separate  us  from  the  love  of  Christ,"  he  has  taught 
them  to  say,  "shall  tribulation,  or  distress,  or  persecu- 
tion, or  famine,  or  nakedness,  or  peril,  or  sword?  Naj', 
in  all  these  things  we  are  more  than  conquerors  through 
him  that  loved  us."  And  so  again,  as  a  king  he  appears 
prosecuting  a  scheme  of  conquest  in  the  world.  He  has  not 
only  a  territory  in  which  he  reigns,  but  a  territory  which  he 
seeks  to  win.  "The  heathen  shall  be  given  to  him  for  his 
inheritance,  and  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  for  a  pos- 
session" is  a  promise  given  to  him  as  Mediator,  which  he  is 
engaged  in  bringing  to  its  fulfillment.  He  is  looking  for- 
ward to  the  hour  when  "every  knee  shall  bow  and  every 
tongue  confess  that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord  to  the  glory  of  the 
Father."  He  proves  his  kingship  thus  by  his  kingly  achieve- 
ments. He  conquers  by  his  grace  every  soul  that  comes 
into  his  kingdom.  Every  case  of  conversion  is  an  illustra- 
tion that  he  is  prosecuting  his  victories  in  the  world.  And 
the  power  that  subdues  one  rebellious  heart  is  proved,  by 
the  fact,  to  be  equal  to  the  conquest  of  any  other,  and  of 
all  others.  And  that  power  will  ultimately  lead  into  will- 
ing captivity  to  his  sway  every  soul  that  stands  written  in 
the  roll  of  his  redeemed  people,  or  in  the  book  of  life. 
Christ  is  thus  the  true  conquerer  of  the  world,   the  reality, 


THE    KINGSHIP    OF    CHRIST.  23 

great  and  glorious,  of  which  all  the  vaunted  conquerors  of 
the  world,  the  Alexanders  and  the  Napoleons  of  human  his- 
tory, are  the  miserable  caricatures;  conquering  not  by  fire  and 
sword — not  by  the  sack  of  cities  and  slaughter  of  armies, 
but  by  his  word  and  spirit — and  conquering  not  in  the  lust 
of  empire,  but  for  the  good  of  his  subjects  and  for  the 
triumph  of  righteousness.  Christ  alone  has  shown  the  world 
that  kingly  thing,  a  conqueror,  and  that  kingly  act  of  con- 
quering, not  by  carnal  weapons,  but  by  force  of  truth  and 
in  the  spirit  of  love. 

And  then  once  more,  he  stands  before  us  as  a  King, 
because  in  the  grand  conception  of  what  is  his  due,  he  does 
all  things  for  his  own  glory.  This  pursuit  of  glory  in  the 
case  of  men,  though  it  is  the  passion  of  kings,  and  called 
noble,  is  mean  and  presumptious.  It  is  again  the  caricature 
of  a  good  and  great  reality.  For  man's  glory  is  but  the 
worship  of  self,  rendered  to  an  object  unworthy  of  it  in  the 
first  instance,  and  tending  only  to  sink  him  deeper  in  un- 
worthiness  as  it  is  professed  and  enjoyed.  But  the  glory  of 
Christ  is  the  highest  end  that  can  be  contemplated  by  any 
intelligence,  human,  angelic  or  Divine.  The  pursuit  of  it  by 
him  is  that  right  thing,  that  kingly  act  of  Deity,  which  men 
in  their  pursuit  of  glory,  vainly  and  wickedly  try  to  imi- 
tate. Of  God,  we  are  taught  to  say,  "thine  is  the  kingdom 
and  the  power  and  the  glory  forever,"  'iThou  are  worthy 
0  Lord,"  the  worshippers  in  heaven  are  represented  as  say- 
ing, "to  receive  glory  and  honor  and  power,  for  thou  hast 
created  all  things,  and  for  thy  pleasure  they  are  and  were 
created."  "I  reign  for  myself,"  is  language  which  is  wrong 
on  the  lips  of  human  kings;  and  it  always  betrays  the  des- 
pot; but  it  is  language  which  becomes  Christ;  for  his  glory 
is  identical  with  the  supremacy  of  right,  and  truth,  and  love; 
and  the  pursuit  of  it  is  only  another  name  for  the  exalta- 
tion of  all  worthy  objects,   for  the  triumph  of  all  good  and 


24  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

noble  principles,  for  the  infinite  experience  of  holy  joy  in 
his  own  heart  at  the  enthrownment  of  holiness  in  the  hearts 
of  all  his  creatures. 

Upon  facts  like  these,  we  build  our  doctrine  of  the 
Kingship  of  Christ.  It  is  an  actual  verity,  a  supreme  po- 
tential factor  in  every  man's  life,  and  in  the  world's  history, 
not  a  dream  of  the  poets,  nor  a  figment  of  the  schools. 
The  air,  we  know,  is  resounding  with  acclamations  in  favor 
of  other  lordly  powers  which  claim  sovereignty  over  the 
earth.  The  "Spirits"  of  the  successive  ages  pass  before  the 
eyes  of  men  in  a  royal  procession;  and  their  heralds  go  be- 
fore and  cry,  "bow  the  knee."  They  flaunt  their  standards 
in  the  commercial  exchange — in  the  political  cabinet — in  the 
halls  of  science — in  the  arenas  where  avarice  and  ambition 
marshal  their  forces  and  strive  for  lordship;  and  before 
them  the  multitude  bend  their  spirits  in  trust  and  worship. 
But  it  is  only  the  delusion  of  the  madmen  of  Elijah's  day, 
crying  vainly,  "O  Baal  hear  us."  These  are  but  mockeries 
of  the  world's  need.      There  is  no  King  for  it  but  Jesus. 

And  let  this  be  my  last  remark;  there  is  no  religion 
for  men,  but  that  which  sincerely,  intelligently  and  practi- 
cally acknowledges  the  Kingship  of  Jesus;  and  the  doom  of 
those  who  persist  in  rejecting  him,  has  been  foretold  in  his 
own  solemn  words  (Luke  xix,  27)  "those,  mine  enemies, 
which  would  not  that  I  should  reign  over  them,  bring  hither, 
and  slay  them  before  me." 


HOLINESS  OF  GOD. 

FEBRUARY  22,  18G3. 


"And  the  Lord  spake  unto  Moses,  saying,  speak  unto  all  the 
congregation  of  the  children  of  Israel,  and  say  unto  them.  Ye 
shall  be  holy:    for   I  the  Lord  your  God  am  holy." — Lev.  19:L3. 


RELIGION  IS  a  due  recognition  of  God  by  a  rational 
being.  To  exist  in  a  true  form,  it  must  be  the  out- 
growth of  an  accurate,  complete  and  profound  con- 
ception of  what  God  is.  It  may  be  defined  to  be  the  giv- 
ing to  the  fact  that  there  is  a  God,  the  full  eflfect  to  which 
such  a  fact  is  entitled.  To  give  full  effect  to  such  a  fact, 
the  mind  must  be  rightly  informed  and  rightly  affected  in 
regard  to  it.  And  if  there  is  any  one  thing  more  neces- 
sary than  all  others  to  be  known  and  felt,  in  order  that  the 
mind  should  be  rightly  informed  and  rightl}^  affected  in  re- 
gard to  God,  it  is,  according  to  the  Scriptures,  that  He  is  a  ho- 
ly being.  This  is  evident  from  the  special  pains  which  the 
sacred  writers  take,  to  impress  this  idea  upon  their  readers. 
The  God  whom  they  set  before  us,  is  described  always  and 
conspicuously  as  the  "Holy  One."  And  that  it  is  his  own 
purpose  to  be  conceived  of,  as  distinguished  by  this  charac- 
teristic above  all  others,  is  demonstrated  by  the  fact  that 
he  causes  every  thing  which  is  particularly  associated  with 
himself,  to  be  regarded  as  bearing  this  quality.  The  mo- 
ment he  indicates  that  he  has  taken  a  thing  into  union  with 
himself  or  identified  it  in  any  way  with  himself,  he  denom- 
inates it  hoi}'.      Incapable  as  it  may  be,   in    its    own    nature 

25 


26  A    pastor's    VALEDICTORr. 

of  acquiring  any  moral  property,  in  virtue  of  its  relation  to 
him,  as  his  representative  or  adjunct,  it  immediately  as- 
sumes a  quality  of  holiness,  not  original  or  proper  to  it  but 
derived  from  its  factitious  position  as  a  symbol  or  mdex  of 
himself.  Thus  when  he  institutes  the  Sabbath,  as  a  day  be- 
longing to  himself,  he  calls  it  his  "holy  day."  When  he 
chose  the  Abrahamic  race,  as  his  peculiar  people,  he  calls 
them,  a  "holy  nation/'  When  he  directed  the  building  of 
a  temple,  he  calls  it  his  "holy  house  ;"  and  that  part  of  it 
which  was  more  particularly  signalized  as  his  habitation  by 
a  visible  token  of  his  presence;  and  which  was  veiled  from 
the  eye  of  all  but  the  High-priest,  was  designated  still  more 
emphatically',  "the  Holy  of  Holies."  The  vessels,  the  uten- 
sils, and  the  garments,  used  in  the  temple  service,  were  all 
pronounced  holy,  because  used  in  the  worship  of  God.  The 
ground  upon  which  Moses  stood,  when  the  Lord  appeared  to 
him  in  Horeb  and  spake  to  him  out  of  the  burning  bush, 
was  declared  to  be  "holy  ground."  Everything,  in  short, 
which  belongs  to  Grod,  which  he  touches,  or  appropriates, 
becomes  by  that  fact,  holy.  The  idea  of  God  and  the  idea 
of  holiness  are  thus  kept  in  close  and  immediate  association 
Whatever  suggests  the  one,  suggests  the  other.  What  he 
put  thus  conspicuously  forward,  in  every  exhibition  of  him- 
self must  be  taken  as  the  badge  or  mark  by  which  he  ex- 
pects to  be  distinguished  in  the  apprehension  of  intelligent 
creatures.  God  would  be  pre-eminently  recognized  as  a 
Holy  God.  Find  him  where  you  will,  he  demands  of  you 
that  5'ou  couple  this  idea  with  your  conception  of  him. 

I  propose  to  inquire  this  morning,  as  particularly  as  we 
may  be  able,  into  the  meaning  of  the  term  the  holiness  of 
God  ;  and  to  indicate  the  obligations  which  the  possession 
of  such  an  attribute  by  the  Creator  lays  upon  the  creature. 
First,  then,  what  are  we  to  understand  by  the  proposition 
of  the  text,  "I   am  holy  ?"     The  usage  of  Scripture  will  fur- 


HOLINESS    OF    GOD.  27 

nish  us  with  the  proper  answer  to  this  question;  and  will  dis- 
close a,  wider  range  to  the  sense  of  the  proposition,  than  in 
our  ordinary  way  of  speaking,  we  are  wont  to  allow  to  it. 
The  initial  thought  involved  in  the  word,  as  applied  to  God 
in  the  Bible,  is  that  of  separation.  This  is  evident  from 
the  fact  that  whenever  it  is  applied  to  created  things,  it  is 
used  as  the  opposite  of  common.  By  analogy  therefore,  as 
appellative  of  the  Deity,  it  must  descrilje  him  as  subsist- 
ing in  a  state  of  uncommonness,  if  I  may  use  such  an 
expression.  It  designates  him  as  a  being  by  himself,  occu- 
pying a  position  removed  by  an  absolute  and  infinite  inter- 
val, from  all  others  beings.  It  indicates  the  singularity  of 
his  nature,  the  complete  and  unalterable  disparity  which 
separates  his  essence  from  that  of  all  creatures.  He  is  God 
alone,  isolated  in  the  inviolable  and  unattainable  perfection 
of  his  Divinity.  Hence,  in  the  song  which  Moses  sang  af- 
ter the  passage  of  the  Israelites  through  the  Red  Sea,  he 
asks,  "who  is  like  unto  thee,  0  Lord,  among  the  gods  who 
is  like  thee  glorious  in  holiness  ?"  ;  and  Isaiah  in  his  40tb 
chapter,  presents  the  challenge  "to  whom  then  will  ye  liken 
me,  or  shall  I  be  equal  ?  saith  the  Holy  One  "  In  both 
which  questions,  there  is  a  direct  and  express  allusion  to 
the  holiness  of  God,  as  coincident  with  that  unlikeness  to 
him  which  is  predicated  of  other  beings.  The  Scriptures 
abound  with  similar  passages,  classifying  and  defining  God 
as  it  were  by  this  unlikeness  to  any  thing  else  which  exists. 
Men  and  angels  have  their  fellows — their  similitudes — but 
God  has  none.  As  wide  a  gap  as  lies  between  the  infinite 
and  the  finite,  lies  between  him  and  the  loftiest  creature. 
Comparison,  in  such  a  case  is  out  of  the  question  ;  and  any 
thought  of  it,  or  attempt  at  it,  is  an  affront  to  God.  To 
deify  anything  else  is  to  perpetrate  falsehood,  on  the  grandest 
scale,  for  Deity  is  an  incommunicable  tiling.  It  is  the  august 
mysterious,   awful  specialty  of  God.      It  describes   what  be- 


28  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

longs  to  him  and  what  by  an  absolute,  eternal  necessity  can- 
not belong  to  a  creature.  Hence  the  first  statute  of  the  law 
which  was  pronounced  on  Sinai,  declares,  "thou  shalt  have 
no  other  gods  before  me,"  establishing  it  as  the  fundament- 
al truth  of  religion,  that  God  is  the  sole  being  of  his  kind, 
and  that  to  give  his  name,  or  ascribe  his  attributes,  to 
another,  is  rebellion  against  him.  He  removes  himself  by 
an  immeasurable  chasm  from  the  whole  universe,  and  allows 
nothing  within  iis  wide  compass  to  claim  affinity  or  equality 
with  himself.  He  requires  all  other  intelligences  to  recog- 
nize this  essential  and  total  diversity  by  which  he  is  separ- 
ated from  them.  He  would  have  them  remember,  always, 
that  he  is  the  invisible,  the  inaccessible,  the  incomprehensi- 
ble God.  As  He  said  to  Moses  in  the  wilderness  "set  bounds 
unto  the  people  round  about,  saying  take  heed  to  your- 
selves that  ye  go  not  up  into  the  mount,  or  touch  the  bor- 
der of  it,"  so  He  says  to  the  whole  race  of  creatures.  Be- 
tween his  habitation,  between  his  person,  and  them,  there 
is  a  l)Ound  set,  which  the}'  can  never  pass  over.  To  over- 
leap it,  even  in  thought,  is  an  act  of  profane  presumption. 
"Thou  thoughtest  that  I  was  altogether  such  an  one  as  thy- 
self," is  one  of  the  distinct  offences  charged  against  the 
wicked  in  the  50th  Psalm,  which  God  declares  that  he  will 
punish.  And  here,  in  the  apprehension  of  this  absolute  and 
entire  difference  which  divides  the  Deity  from  the  creature, 
is  the  first  element  which  the  Scriptures,  propose  to  our 
consideration  in  forming  our  idea  of  the  holiness  of  God. 

A  second  element  is  obtained  by  regarding  this  differ- 
ence under  the  particular  aspect  of  exalfafion.  God  is  holy, 
not  merely  because  he  is  infinitely  separated  from  other  be- 
ings, but  because  he  is  infinitely  elevated  above  them.  The 
distance  at  which  he  places  himself  from  them,  is  a  distance 
in  respect  to  height.  He  is  not  only  totally  unlike  them, 
but  immeasurably  superior  to  them.     That  this   idea  of  ex- 


HOLINESS    OF    GOD.  29 

altation  is  included  iu  the  idea  of  the  Dlviue  Holiness,  is 
evident  from  the  passage  in  Isaiah  LVIL,  15  v.,  "thus  saith 
the  high  and  lofty  One  that  inhabiteth  eternity,  whose  name 
is  Holy  ;  I  dwell  in  the  high  and  holy  place,  with  him  also 
that  is  of  a  contrite  and  humble  spirit."  He  whose  name 
is  Holy,  is  here  called  the  "high  and  lofty  one,"  and  the 
holy  place  in  which  he  dwells  is  also  designated,  "the  high 
place."  This  juxta-position  of  terms  unquestionably  indi- 
cates a  correspondence  in  the  sense  of  them.  God  is  pre- 
sented to  us,  in  the  same  view,  when  we  are  told  in  one 
proposition  that  his  name  is  holy,  and  in  another  that  he  is 
the  high  and  lofty  One  ;  and  the  place  of  his  residence  is 
presented  to  us  in  the  same  view,  when  it  is  described  by 
one  epithet  as  high  and  by  another  as  holy.  We  may  con- 
clude, therefore,  that  whenever  God  sets  himself  before  us, 
in  the  character  of  a  holy  being,  he  requires  us  to  take  in- 
to our  conception  of  him  the  idea  that  he  is  a  being  infin- 
itely exalted  above  all  creatures.  He  is  in  heaven,  seated 
upon  his  holy  hill,  enthroned  in  the  unapproachable  gran- 
deur of  his  Divine  pre-eminence.  Other  beings  in  beholding 
him,  must  look  not  only  away  to  a  distant  sphere  but  up  to 
a  higher  one.  Other  beings  dwindle  into  insignificance  in  the 
attributes  of  their  nature,  iu  the  circumstances  of  their  state 
and  m  the  measure  of  their  powers,  when  compared  with 
him.  The  degree  of  his  diverseness  from  them  is  the  de- 
gree of  his  greatness  over  them. 

And  then  to  this  thought  of  the  boundless  exaltation 
of  God,  the  Scriptures  lead  us  to  attach  another,  which 
seems  to  define  his  holiness  still  more  ;  and  that  is,  that  of 
majesty,  or  kingly  supremacy.  He  is  not  only  elevated  in 
nature,  but  in  rank,  in  office.  He  is  not  only  seated  above 
the  heavens,  but  he  doeth  his  will  in  the  army  of  heaven, 
and  among  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth."  "I  am  God"  he 
says   "and  there  is  none  else  ;  I  am  God,   and  there  is  none 


30  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

like  me,  declaring  the  end  from  the  beginning,  and  from 
ancient  times  the  things  that  are  not  yet  done;  saying,  my 
counsel  shall  stand  and  1  will  do  all  my  pleasure."  That 
is,  as  God,  it  is  his  absolute  prerogative  to  exercise  super- 
intendence over  all  things,  and  to  manage  and  direct  all 
things  by  his  sole  authority.  The  glorious  solitude,  in  which 
he  dwells,  is  the  seclusion  of  unshared  and  universal  sover- 
eignty In  that  vision  of  him  which  Isaiah  describes  in  his 
6th  chapter,  where  the  Seraphim  appears  crying  one  to 
another,  "holy,  holy,  holy,  is  the  Lord  of  hosts."  "I  saw 
him,"  he  says  "sitting  upon  a  throne,  high  and  lifted  up, 
and  his  train  filled  the  temple."  The  cry  of  the  Seraphim,  ho- 
ly, holy,  holy,  was  the  acknowledgment  of  the  character  in 
which  the  Deity  was  manifesting  himself  at  that  moment, 
when  he  sat  upon  his  throne,  high  and  lifted  up  resplendent 
in  the  symbols  of  imperial  state.  The  fact,  that  drew  forth 
their  loyal  acclamations,  was  the  fact  that  made  him  holy. 
He  was  not  only  a  great  being,  elevated  above  all  creatures 
in  eminence  of  nature,  but  a  great  kint^  transcendent  in  ma- 
jesty, as  well  as  in  personal  dignitj"  and  excellence.  And 
it  was  his  majesty,  not  less  tlian  his  exaltation  above,  and 
his  separateness  from  all  other  beings,  which  was  referred 
to  in  this  triple  ascription  to  him  of  the  attributes  of  holi- 
ness. His  name  was  holy,  because  as  the  Psalmist  says  in 
one  place  it  was  "reverend"  that  is  entitled  to  veneration 
and  homage,  as  the  representative  of  the  Supreme  power  of 
the  universe  ;  just  as  in  another  place  it  is  said  to  be  holy, 
because  it  is  "great  anl  terrible,"  that  is,  invested  with 
that  immense  and  boundless  authority  which  was  adapted  to 
fill  the  rational  mind  with  pious  awe  and  fear. 

If  now,  we  combine  these  three  ideas,  which  we  have 
thus  evolved  from  the  sense  of  the  term,  holiness,  as  ap- 
plied to  God,  that  is  to  say,  if  we  conceive  of  him  as  sub- 
sisting in  a  state  of  infinite  separateness  or  diverseness  from 


HOLINESS    OF   GOD.  31 

other  beings,  of  infinite  exaltation  above  them,  and  of  infi- 
nite dominion  over  tliem.  we  shall  find  that  we  have  pro- 
gressed so  far  into  the  import  of  our  theme,  as  tp  be  con- 
fronted with  an  object  whose  mysteriousness  and  awfulness 
are  well  nigh  overwhelming.  How  tremendously  such  a  God 
spreads  and  towers  beyond  those  forms  and  proportions  un- 
der which  we  ordinarily  think  of  him!  Vast  and  stupendous 
as  are  those  magnitudes  which  are  exhibited  to  us  in  the 
works  of  God,  how  dwarfed  they  all  seem  when  compared 
with  those  which  are  comprehended  in  this  one  attribute, 
the  holiness  of  God,   even  as  we  have  now  explained  it! 

But  far  as  we  have  gone,  we  have  not  yet  explored 
our  high  doctrine  to  its  summit.  The  last  and  crowning- 
elevation  remains  to  be  noticed.  That,  in  which  the  holi- 
ness of  God  culminates,  we  may  say,  is  the  essential  and 
perfect  moral  ■purity  of  his  nature.  His  holiness  is  his  in- 
herent, original,  total,  and  perpetual  antagonism  to  sin.  In 
this  fact,  the  other  facts  of  which  we  have  spoken,  com- 
plete themselves.  Without  this,  the  other  conceptions  of 
God  to  which  we  have  alluded,  would  not  fully  realize  the 
proper  idea  of  God.  Without  this,  his  separateness  from 
creatures,  his  exaltation  above  and  his  dominion  over  them, 
would  all  fail  in  establishing  his  claim  to  the  name  and 
the  honors  of  God.  Even  amongst  men,  goodness  and 
greatness  are  felt  to  be  cognate  and  coincident  attributes. 
It  is  only  by  the  application  of  a  false  standard  that  a  bad 
man  can  ever  gain  the  credit  and  fame  of  being  a  great 
one.  In  a  pure  and  just  society  he  never  could  be  recog- 
nized as  a  great  one.  The  ambition  which  is  now  seen  in 
so  many  sinister  forms,  domineering  in  the  human  heart,  is 
only  a  corrupt  and  prostituted  affection,  which,  in  its  right 
shape,  would  appear  in  the  earnest  aspiration  and  endeavor 
of  the  soul  after  eminence  in  goodness.  The  diverseness 
from  his  fellows,   the    elevation  above  them,   the  mastership 


32  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

over  them,  which  are  to  make  a  man  really  great,  must  be 
a  diverseness,  an  elevation,  and  a  mastership,  founded  on 
superiority  in  moral  purity.  And  God  when  he  requires  us 
to  acknowledge  those  other  facts  concerning  him,  which,  as 
we  have  seen,  are  included  in  the  sense  of  the  proposition, 
"I  am  holy,"  lays  an  ample  ground  for  what  he  requires, 
in  the  fact  that  he  is  infinite  in  goodness.  The  Scriptures 
proclaim  this  of  him  with  a  scrupulousness  and  copiousness 
of  statement  which  must  have  struck  every  intelligent  reader. 
So  prominent  a  feature  is  this  in  the  inspired  portraiture  of 
God,  that  it  is  the  first  and  ordinarily  the  only  idea  of  his 
holiness  which  the  mind  carries  away  with  it  from  the  sa- 
cred page;  those  other  elements  in  the  attribute  at  which 
we  have  been  glancing,  being,  in  a  degree,  overshadowed 
by  the  preponderating  dimensions  of  this.  Thus  righteous- 
ness, uprightness  and  truth  are  constantly  used  as  equiva- 
lents to  the  holiness  of  God.  "He  is  of  purer  eyes,"  it  is 
said,  "than  to  behold  evil,  and  cannot  look  upon  iniquity." 
He  is  righteous  in  all  ways,  and  holy  in  all  his  works. 
He  has  no  pleasure  in  wickedness,  and  evil  shall  not  dwell 
with  him.  All  that  do  unrighteously  are  an  abomination 
unto  the  Lord.  He  is  angi'y  with  the  wicked  every  day. 
His  law  is  holy,  just  and  good.  Sin  is  everywhere  the  ob- 
ject of  his  reprobation,  his  enmity,  and  his  aversion.  As 
it  is  infinitely  separated  from  his  nature,  so  he  judicially 
separates  it  infinitely  from  his  person  and  presence.  He 
drives  it  away — casts  it  out — he  hides  his  face  from  it.  By 
fearful  tokens  he  has  pursued  it,  all  through  the  world's  his- 
tory, with  his  wrath.  "The  whole  creation  groaneth  and 
traveleth  in  pain  together"  until  now  in  consequence  of  the 
curse  which  followed  the  first  perpetration  of  it.  Death,  in- 
cluding all  manner  of  evil,  temporal,  spiritual,  and  eternal, 
has  been  its  wages  from  the  beginning.  By  no  means,  on 
no.  account,   in  no  instance,   will  God  clear  the  guilty.     The 


HOLINESS    OF    GOD.  33 

angels  which  kept  not  their  first  estate  were  driven  by  one 
fell  stroke  of  vindictive  power  into  the  bottomless  pit. 
Apostate  men  can  be  saved  from  the  same  dark  doom,  only 
by  the  intervention  of  a  Redeemer,  who  in  the  person  of 
Deity,  bears  the  punishment  due  to  their  sin;  and  so  satis- 
fies the  demands  of  law,  and  exhausts  the  penal  wrath  to 
wliich  the\  were  liable.  The  mercy  that  has  opened  the 
gates  of  heaven,  as  well  as  the  severity  which  has  built  the 
dungeons  of  hell,  is  an  everlasting  witness  to  the  holiness 
of  God.  Providence,  could  we  read  its  processes  aright,  is 
one  uniform  demonstration  of  the  operation  of  this  principle; 
and  when  its  processes  are  all  completed,  and  we  shall  be 
able  to  read  it  aright,  in  its  grand  results,  the  mighty 
scheme  will  stand,  like  a  monument  covering  heaven,  earth 
and  hell  with  its  broad  base,  and  illuminating  eternity  with 
its  radiant  manifestation  of  the  holiness  of  God. 

With  that  conception  of  God,  which  this  view  of  him 
as  a  holy  being,  is  adapted  to  give  us,  in  our  minds,  we 
are  now  prepared  to  understand  the  force  and  extent  of  that 
obligation  which,  the  text  teaches,  the  fact  that  he  is  such 
a  being,  lays  upon  his  rational  creatures.  "Ye  shall  be  holy, 
for  I  the  Lord  5'our  God  am  holy."  That  is,  man  is  re- 
quired to  be  holy,  because  God  is  holy.  That  man,  as 
originally  created,  was  holy,  we  know.  He  was  made  in  the 
image  and  likeness  of  God.  It  is  not  too  much  too  say,  he 
could  not  have  been  created  anything  else.  In  giving  a 
moral  nature  to  a  creature  it  is  inconsistent  and  improbable 
to  suppose  that  God  would  have  made  him  anything  but  a 
holy  being.  For  man  to  unmake  himself,  to  reverse  his 
character,  to  bring  his  nature  under  the  dominion  of  sin, 
instead  of  holiness — therefore,  must  be  the  most  flagrant  of 
all  breaches  of  duty  towards  his  Maker.  While  the  propo- 
sition, "I  the  Lord  your  God  am  hoi}',"  remains  true,  there- 
fore,  the   o))ligation,    "ye  shall  be    holy,"    must  continue  in 


34  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

operation.  It  grows  out  of  the  very  institution  of  things. 
Itj  grows  equally  out  of  the  condition  and  laws  of  man's  na- 
ture. Holiness  is  the  highest  stage  of  development  to  which 
he  can  attain.  His  highest  distinction  is  that  he  is  capable 
of  being  holy.  It  is  this  which  identifies  him  as  the  off- 
spring of  God.  bearing  to  him  in  addition  to  the  common 
relation  of  a  creature,  the  nearer  and  more  specific  one  of  a 
spiritual  child.  Aud  such  a  capability  cannot  be  unim- 
proved or  thwarted  without  doing  a  grievous  wrong  to  him- 
self. 

And  still  farther,  his  position  as  the  subject  of  that 
actual  government  which  God  maintains  over  the  world, 
obliges  him,  by  all  the  risk  of  incurring  the  penalties  of 
violated  law,  to  be  holy.  It  is  by  this  means  only  that  he 
can  escape  the  terrible  result  of  bringing  down  upon 
him  all  the  weight  of  the  enmity  and  the  hostile  power  of 
the  government  of  God.  Hatred  of  sin  in  God,  is  only 
another  expression  for  a  disposition  and  determination  to 
punish  it.  It  is  more  than  a  sentiment;  it  is  a  statute  and 
a  decree,  ordaining  that  all  unholiness  in  creatures  shall  be 
treated  as  a  crime.  On  a  variety  of  grounds,  therefore,  the 
consequence,  that  man  is  bound  to  be  holy,  follows  from 
the  fact  that  the  Lord  his  God,    is  holy. 

What  then,  we  are  led  to  ask,  as  a  question  of  vast 
practical  moment,  is  the  extent  and  import  of  this  obliga- 
tion? What  idea  are  we  to  form  of  that  holiness  which 
man,  in  his  sphere  as  a  creature  as  true  to  God,  is  required 
to  possess  and  exhibit?  Without  entering  into  any  analysis 
of  the  subject,  we  shall  find  probably,  a  specific  answer  to 
this  question,  in  a  remark  of  St.  Paul,  in  which  he  states 
in  an  actual  case,  the  method  by  which  this  holiness  had 
been  realized.  Writing  to  the  Roman  Christians,  he  says 
in  the  6th  chapter  and  22nd  verse  of  his  Epistle  "now  be- 
ing made   free    from    sm    and   become  servants    to   God,    ye 


HOLINESS    OF    GOD.  35 

have  your  fruit  unto  holiness."  Holiness  is  here  represent- 
ed as  the  fruit  or  result  of  that  change  by  which  man  is 
delivered  from  the  dominion  of  sin,  and  brought  into  sub- 
jection to  the  will  of  God.  The  two  expressions,  "free 
from, sin,"  and  "servants  to  God,"  describe  only  parts  of 
the  same  process,  and  indicate  together  the  condition  of  the 
man,  who  is  devoted  solely  and  wholly  to  the  work  of  ful- 
filling or  realizing  the  purposes  of  his  Maker  m  bringing 
him  into  being.  We  have  the  same  idea  presented  to  us, 
in  those  passages,  which  speak  of  the  angels  and  prophets 
and  apostles,  which  are  God's  special  ministers,  as  holy;  in 
those  which  speak  ot  Christians  as  being  holy,  because  un- 
blameable  in  the  sight  of  God;  and  more  strikingly,  if  pos- 
sible, still,  in  that  one  in  which  Jesus,  whose  distmction  it 
was  to  be  holy,  declares  of  those  who  do  the  will  of  God, 
that  they  are  his  brother  and  sister  and  mother,  that  is, 
affiliated  or  identified  with  him  by  a  common  nature,  and 
hence  partaking  with  him  in  this  specific  attribute  of  holi- 
ness. And  how  it  is,  that  this  devotion  on  the  part  ot  the 
creature,  to  the  serving  of  God,  authorizes  the  transfer  of 
the  title,  holy,  which  belongs  to  God,  to  the  creature,  a 
little  reflection  will  easily  make  apparent. 

The  holiness  of  God.  as  we  have  seen,  is  properly 
something  as  special,  as  is  the  nature  of  God  himself. 
No  other  being  can  possess  it,  any  m.ore  than  he  can  be 
God.  But  this  holiness  of  God  expresses  itself  in  every 
declaration  which  he  makes  of  his  own  will;  and  wherever 
that  will  is  executed,  his  holiness  is  realized — is  carried  out 
into  action.  And  in  this  view  of  it,  his  holiness  can  be 
exemplified,  by  every  being  who  is  truly  doing  his  will.  To 
give  effect  to  that  will,  is  to  reproduce  or  re-enact,  so  to 
speak,  the  holiness  of  God;  for  as  I  have  said,  his  will,  in 
any  case,  is  the  expression  of  his  holiness.  It  designates 
in  the    creature  to    whom    it  is  directed    a    certain  condition 


36  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

in  which  his  own  holiness  shall  be  embodied.  Just  so  far 
as  that  condition  is  attained  by  that  creature,  just  so  far 
does  he  become  an  expositer  of  the  holiness  of  God.  He 
becomes  like  the  vessel  into  which  the  water  from  a  foun- 
tain has  conveyed  itself;  or  like  the  globe  which  the  sun- 
beam has  pervaded  with  its  light.  The  fruit  or  result  of 
holiness,  therefore,  as  the  apostle  teaches,  is  re-enacted 
whenever  the  man  has  been  freed  from  sin,  and  become  a 
servant  to  God.  And  now  this  view  of  the  method  of  its 
production  will  help  us  still  further  to  discover  something 
of  the  nature  of  holiness  in  man. 

As  it  is  a  serving  of  God  it  must  be  founded,  of 
course,  upon  an  intelligent  apprehension  of  the  will  of  God, 
coupled  with  a  conviction  of  its  supreme  authority.  Ir- 
rational creatures,  may  in  a  certain  sense,  be  said  to  be 
serving  God,  when  without  knowledge  or  design,  they  per- 
form their  offices  in  the  economy  of  nature;  but  in  no  sense 
can  rational  creatures  claim  to  be  serving  him,  when  the 
mind  and  spirit  are  not  parties  to  the  work.  The  will  of 
God  may  be  done  formally — without  there  being  any  quali- 
ty of  holiness  in  the  fact.  That  quality  can  be  ascribed  to 
an  act  only  when  the  act  can  be  said  to  be  a  reflection  of 
the  holiness  of  God,  or  a  response  on  the  part  of  the  crea- 
ture to  that  holiness,  as  expressed  in  his  will.  In  other 
words,  it  can  only  be,  when  an  act  is  performed,  under  a 
sense  of  those  motives  and  sanctions  which  spring  from 
God,  regarded  in  that  holiness,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  in- 
vests him  with  his  special  pre-eminence  as  God — that  it 
can  properly  be  pronounced  holy.  Then  again,  this  holiness 
must  contain  in  it  the  element  of  a  free  and  cordial  appro- 
bation of  the  Will  of  God  in  the  heart  of  man.  The  ex- 
pressions, "free  from  sin,"  and  "servants  to  God,"  certainly 
imply  this.  How  can  the  man  be  free  from  sin,  whose 
heart   is   rebelling   against   the    will   of    God?      Or  how  can 


HOLINESS    OF    GOD.  37 

God  be  served  by  the  man  who  does  his  will  only  through 
fear  and  coercion?  Love  to  God  must  lie  at  the  root  of 
all  true  serving  of  him.  The  affectionate  accordance  of  the 
mind  of  the  creature  with  the  mind  of  the  Creator  is  the 
very  life  and  essence  of  holiness  in  the  creature.  And 
then,  once  more,  this  holiness  includes  in  it  the  idea  of  a 
constant  and  a  total  application  of  the  powers  of  man's  na- 
ture to  the  doing  of  the  will  of  God.  Freedom  from  sin, 
describes  a  state — serving  God  is  a  business.  And  if  these 
things  constitute  holiness  in  a  creature,  then  holiness  must 
be  the  state  and  business  of  that  creature.  Hence  says  the 
Apostle  Peter,  "as  he  which  hath  called  you  is  holy,  so 
be  ye  holy,  in  all  manner  of  conversation;"  and  Paul  prays 
for  the  Thessalonian  Christians  that  the  very  God  of  peace 
may  sanctify  them  wholly,  and  that  their  whole  spirit  and 
soul  and  body,"  that  is,  their  entire  nature  "may  be  pre- 
sented blameless  unto  the  coming  of  our  Lord,  Jesus  Christ." 
A  holy  being,  is  a  being,  consecrated,  or  devoted  to  the 
service  of  God.  He  is  a  priest,  charged  in  his  particular 
sphere  with  the  office  of  ministering  before  the  Lord,  iust 
as  Aaron  was  in  the  sanctuary.  Thus  the  body  of  believers, 
which  is  composed  theoretically,  of  holy  persons,  is  called 
"a  holy  priesthood."  Adam  in  his  original  innocence,  was 
a  priest,  and  the  beautiful  earth,  over  which  he  had  been 
set  as  head,  was  the  temple  in  which  he  was  ordained  to 
serve.  And  so,  every  one  who  has  been  newly  created  in 
Christ  Jesus,  so  as  to  be  made  free  from  sin,  and  to  be- 
come a  servant  to  God,  has  been  reinstated  in  the  position 
from  which  Adam  was  displaced.  He  "has  his  fruit  unto 
holiness"  in  this  fact,  that  his  life  henceforth,  by  a  full, 
free  and  hearty  dedication  belongs  to  God,  and  is  to  be 
sacredly  appropriated  to  the  execution  of  his  will;  as  the 
apostle  evidently  assumes,  when  he  writes  to  his  brethren 
at  Rome,    "I   beseech   you  therefore,   that  you  present   your 


38  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

bodies;"  that  is,  yourselves,  "a  living  sacrifice,  boly,  accept- 
able unto  Grod,  which  is  your  reasonable  service,  and  be  ye 
not  conformed  to  this  world,  but  ye  be  transformed,  by  the 
renewing  of  your  mind,  that  ye  may  prove  what  is  that 
good  and  acceptable  and  perfect  will  of  God." 

And  now,   we    have  perhaps,    sufficiently    developed    the 
main  heads  of  our  theme.      We  have    seen  in  an  outlme,   in 
what    the  holiness   of  God    consists.      We    have    seen    it   ap- 
pearing in  its  general  form,   in  the  essential  and  incommun- 
icable oneness  of  his  nature,    by  which,    he  is  infinitely  sep- 
arate    and     diverse     from     all     other    beings.        We     have 
seen  this   property  taking    more    definite  shape,    in    the    idea 
of  an    infinite   exaltation  above  all    other  beings.      We    have 
seen  this  again  gathering  to  itself  the  august  symbolism  oi 
an  infinite  supremacy    over  all    other  beings;    and  lastly   we 
have    seen  all    these  distinctions  uniting   and  culminating  in 
his  original  and  immaculate  moral  purity.      From  this  glori- 
ous perfection  of  the  Deity,   we    have  deduced    the   grounds 
of  an  obligation  to  be  holy,  resting  upon  man,  in  his  meas- 
i    ure    and    sphere,   as    the   creature    of    God;    and  we  have   in 
I  the  last    place,   indicated    the    method    by    which    man   is  to 
I  meet  this   obligation,    by  consecrating    his    being  to    the    do- 
i  ing  of  the  will'  of  God,  which  will,  is  the  expression  of  the 
j  holiness  of  God,   in  the  form  in   which  it  is   capable  of  be- 
I  ing  realized  and  wrought  out  by  such  a  creature. 
I  We  have  only  time  to  refer  to  a  conclusion  or  two,   to 

f  which,  these  reflections  are  adapted  to  lead  us.  Is  God  a 
God  of  holiness?  Then  whenever  and  wherever  we  ac- 
knowledge him,  we  are  bound  to  acknowledge  his  holiness. 
We  cannot  separate  the  two.  Is  he  an  omniscient  God? 
Then,  the  eye  with  which  he  looks  upon  us  in  his  omnis- 
cience is  a  holy  eye.  Is  he  an  omnipotent  God?  Then, 
the  hand  by  which  he  holds  us,  and  controls  us,  is  a  holy 
hand.     Is  he  an  omnipresent  God?     Then  the  presence  with 


HOLINESS    OF    GOD.  39 

which  he  surrounds  us,  is  a  holy  presence.  It  is  in  con- 
tact with  his  holiness  that  we  live  and  move  and  have  our 
being.  His  holiness  fills  heaven,  earth  and  hell.  We  can 
never  escape  from  its  gaze,  its  touch,  its  power.  It  sets  its 
seal  upon  all  God's  acts  and  decrees.  It  attests  the  pass- 
port of  the  saint  to  glory;  it  signs  the  death  warrant  of 
the  lost.  It  is  that  with  which  you  and  I  are  transacting 
every  moment,  and  that  with  which  we  shall  have  to  trans- 
act through  all  eternity.  And  is  this  the  God  of  your 
creed,  my  friend?  Have  you  risen  to  the  heights,  have 
you  compassed  the  immensities  of  this  holiness  in  your  con- 
ception of  God?  Is  this  the  being  whom  you  recognize  as 
your  companion  every  day,  every  hour,  every  moment  as 
the  invisible  inspector  of  your  thoughts,  your  motives,  your 
actions;  and  the  inevitable  judge  who  is  to  sit  at  your  last 
trial  and  to  award  you  your  eternal  doom?  Oh  then,  why 
are  so  many  of  you  content,  as  you  seem  to  be,  with  such 
a  dubious  claim  to  the  favor  of  God,  as  you  possess  as 
Christians?  And  why  are  so  many  of  you  content  to  live 
on  in  such  obstinate  neglect  of  God,  or  such  bold  defiance 
of  him,  as  you  are  doing,  as  sinners?  Surely  our  theo- 
logy needs  to  go  back  again  to  its  rudiments,  and  teach 
us  again  what  be  the  first  principles  of  a  Christian  faith! 
And  let  it  be  ever  borne  in  mind,  that  the  only  proof  of  a 
right  belief  in  God  is  holiness  in  ourselves.  We  must 
make  good  our  assent  to  the  doctrine,  "there  is  a  God," 
by  demonstrating  our  assent  to  the  doctrine,  "God  is 
Holy."  And  we  assent  to  that  doctrine,  when  we  make  it 
operative;  when  we  show  the  holiness  of  God  actually  re- 
flected in  ourselves,  by  making  our  lives  an  exemplification 
of  that  holiness,  by  devoting  them  to  the  doing  of  his  will. 
Upon  such  terms  alone,  most  obviously,  can  it  be  expected, 
that  God  and  man,  can  ever  meet  in  peace.  Upon  such 
terms   alone,   most  obviously,  can   it  be   expected  that  God 


40  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

and  man  can  ever  dwell  together  in  the  same  heaven.  But 
do  the  terms  transcend  your  ability?  Do  you  say,  they 
leave  you  no  alternative,  but  despair?  Then  learn  that  God 
is  prepared  to  give  what  he  requires,  for  says  the  apostle, 
"It  is  God  which  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do 
his  good  pleasure."  And  this  he  does  through  the  offices 
of  his  holy  Spirit.  The  holiness  which  you  cannot  attain 
by  your  own  power,  is  still  attainable,  for  the  means  have 
been  provided  in  the  great  scheme  of  redeeming  grace. 
The  mission  of  the  Spirit  is  included  in  the  mission  of  the 
Son;  and  the  soul  which  goes  in  penitence  and  faith  to 
Jesus  for  justification,  will  receive  by  a  Divine  ingrafting 
that  principle  of  holiness,  which  by  a  Divine  culture,  shall 
develop  itself  through  progressive  stages,  till  at  last,  in  the 
immediate  presence  of  God,  it  shall  mature  into  the  per- 
fection and  glory  of  his  own  image. 


THE  HEAVENLY  CITIZEN. 

JUNE  10,  1866. 


'For  our  Conversation  is  in  Heaven." — Philippians,  3:20. 


THE  type  of  piety  which  the  Bible  recognizes  is  some- 
thing   which  requires,   for   the    adequate   description    of 

it,  a  set  of  terms  which  are  altogether  out  of  place, 
when  applied  to  the  mere  moralist  of  the  world,  or  the 
mere  formalist  of  the  church.  It  is  a  type  which  indi- 
cates so  palpable  and  so  wide  a  distinction  between  the 
real  Christian  and  these  characters,  that  it  is  wonderful 
that  men,  with  the  Scriptures  in  their  hands,  so  often  com- 
found  them;  wonderful  that  so  many  persons,  who  have 
been  instructed  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  can  fall  into 
the  mistake  of  putting  their  virtuous  disposition  and  habits, 
or  their  assumption  of  the  badges  and  usages  of  church 
membership,  for  the  piety  which  God  requires  of  his  children. 

Let  us  open  our  eyes,  this  morning,  to  this  great  fun- 
damental fact  affirmed  by  the  text,  and  confess  that  the 
proper  mark  of  the  Christian  is  that  he  is  one  of  whom  it 
can  be  said,  he  "has  his  conversation  in  heaven."  Though 
the  application  of  such  a  text  may  stagger  our  confidence 
in  our  own  right  to  that  name,  though  it  may  wither  our 
pretensions  to  the  character  of  a  child  ot  God,  as  the 
Saviour's  curse  withered  the  leaves  of  the  barren  fig  tree, 
let  us  honestly  make  it,  for,  assuredly,  it  is  just  here,  in 
the  fact  which  this  text  calls  for,  that  the  essence  of  re- 
ligion, according  to  the  Gospel,  lies;  and  all  the  phenomena  of 

41 


42  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

religion  which  a  man  may  conceivably  exhibit,  must  prove 
but  illusory  semblances,  if  they  do  not  go  the  length  of 
proving  that  this  fact  has  been  verified  in  his  case.  What 
then  are  we  to  understand  by  this  declaration  of  the 
Apostle,    "for  our  conversation  is  in  heaven?" 

Look  back  a  few  verses  in  the  chapter  and  you  will 
see  that  his  precise  object  in  making  it  was  to  enforce  an 
exhortation  just  addressed  to  the  Christians  of  Philippi,  to 
differ  in  their  walk,  a  manner  of  life,  from  another  class 
of  persons  whom  he  characterizes  in  a  summary  way,  as 
those  who  "mind  earthly  things."  From  such  persons,  he 
argues.  Christians  must  necessarily  differ,  for  their  conver- 
sation is  in  heaven;  and  consequently,  their  walk  must  be 
expected  to  show  that  they  "mind  heavenly  things."  This 
antithesis,  which  he  points  out  between  the  men  who  mind 
earthly  things  and  the  men  whose  conversation  is  in 
heaven,  leads  us  at  once  to  conclude,  that  for  all  practical 
purposes,  the  sense  of  the  expression,  "our  conversation  is 
in  heaven,"  may  be  taken  to  be,  simply,  that  we  mind 
heavenly  things.  This  is  the  distinctive  law  or  habit  of 
the  Christian  life,  that  the  subject,  minds  heavenly  things. 
He  can,  therefore,  have  no  fellowship  with  those  of  whose 
lite  the  law,  or  distinctive  habit  is,  that  they  mind  earthly 
things. 

But  the  expression  in  the  text  does  more  than  affirm 
the  fact  that  the  Christian  is  required,  under  the  peculiar 
law  or  habit  of  his  life,  to  mind  heavenly  things.  It  indi- 
cates the,  ground  or  reason  ot  that  fact.  It  discloses  the 
philosophical  principle  out  of  which  that  fact  grows.  It 
enforces  the  exhortation  to  differ  from  those  who  mind 
earthly  things,  not  merely  by  stating  that  the  mindmg  of 
heavenly  things  is  the  appropriate  rule  of  the  Christian 
life,  but  by  revealing  an  order  or  state  of  things  lying 
back  of   that   rule,    from   which   that   rule   is   naturally   de- 


THE  HEAVENLY  CITIZEN.  43 

duced.  Tbis  is  apparent  to  the  scholar  who  will  look  at 
the  language  of  the  Apostle  as  it  appears  in  the  original 
Greek.  The  word  translated  "conversation"  in  our  English 
version,  will  there  be  found  to  be  a  different  word  from 
that  ordinarily  employed  to  signify,  conversation,  or  mode 
of  life,  or  deportment.  It  is  fair  to  conclude  that  had  the 
Apostle  designed  to  do  no  more  than  stale  the  fact  that 
the  Christian,  normally,  is  one  who  is  employed  about 
heavenly  things,  he  would  have  used  the  ordinary  word 
signifying  conversation.  Nor  if  this  were  all  that  he  had 
designed  to  do,  would  he  have  been  likely  to  make  use  of 
the  qualifying  phrase,  "in  heaven,"  as  he  does.  He  would 
have  expressed  in  terms  which  should  refer  to  things  not 
to  place.  He  would  have  said,  "our  conversation  is"  (not 
"in  heaven,")  but  "about  the  things  of  heaven;"  just  as 
he  had  said  of  those  persons,  between  whom  and  the  Chris- 
tian he  is  drawing  an  antithesis,  they  "mind  earthly 
things."  The  conversation  of  a  man,  is  his  daily,  habitual 
manner  of  living;  what  he  does,  here  and  now;  and  it  is 
altogether  incongruous,  therefore,  to  say  of  a  man  on  earth, 
his  conversation  is  "in  heaven,"  when  by  heaven,  you  mean 
a  place,   as  St.   Paul  clearly  does,   in  the  text. 

All  this  difficulty  about  the  meaning  of  the  expression 
disappears  when  we  give  to  the  word,  conversation,  the  ex- 
act sense  which  it  has  in  the  original.  It  means  precisely 
the  standing  and  the  action  of  a  citizen  in  his  relation  to 
the  State.  It  belongs  technically  to  the  vocabulary  of  pol- 
itics. It  contemplates,  always,  the  party  to  whom  it  refers, 
under  the  specific  character  of  a  member  of  a  common- 
wealth, or  government.  What  it  affirms  of  him,  it  affirms 
of  him,  under  this  aspect.  And  when  it  is  applied  to  the 
Christian,  therefore,  it  assumes  of  him  that  he  has,  in  the 
act  of  adopting  Christianity,  passed  into  the  position  of  a 
member  of  a  commonwealth  or  government.     He  has  under- 


44  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

gone  a  process  aualagous  to  wliat  we  call  naturalization; 
the  process  by  which  an  alien  becomes  invested  with 
the  rights  and  privileges  of  a  citizen,  in  a  country  in 
which  he  was  not  born.  You  say  of  the  subject  of 
any  of  the  monarchs  of  the  old  world,  when  he  comes  to 
these  shores,  and  goes  through  the  formalities  connected 
with  the  process  of  naturalization,  he  is  now  a  citizen  of 
the  American  Republic;  and  upon  this  fact  you  ground  an 
obligation  to  pursue  a  certain  course  of  conduct,  corespond- 
iug  with  this  new  political  relationship.  And  so,  the  text 
teaches  us,  you  may  say,  of  the  Christian,  "he  has  become 
a  citizen  of  heaven"  and  as  such,  lies  under  an  obligation 
to  pursue  a  course  of  conduct,  or  exhibit  a  "conversation" 
corresponding  with  this  fact.  And  citizenship,  you  will  ob- 
serve, attaches  to  a  man  though  he  be  not  actually  pres- 
ent or  resident  in  the  country  to  which  citizenship  invites 
him.  Tens  of  thousands  of  persons  may  be  found  to-day 
dwelling  and  transacting  business  in  this  land  who  are  cit- 
izens of  lands  beyond  the  sea.  Here,  notwithstanding  their 
personal  association  with  the  communities  in  which  they 
are  sojourning,  they  are  foreigners.  The  Christian,  during 
his  actual  abode  on  earth,  is  occupying  a  position  auala- 
gous to  that  of  these  persons.  He  is  a  citizen  of  heaven; 
a  citizen  of  that  kingdom  of  which  heaven  (and  heaven 
viewed  as  that  place  "from  whence"  as  the  text  expresses 
it  "we  look  for  the  Saviour,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ")  is 
the  proper  territory  and  seat  of  government.  Resident  as 
he  is  in  the  world,  and  engaged  in  various  forms  and  de- 
grees with  its  business,  he  is,  nevertheless,  a  foreigner  in 
it.  The  closest  alliances  he  may  have  formed  with  his 
neighbors  do  not  alter  this  fact.  Cemented  to  them  by 
all  the  ties  of  domestic  love  and  social  life,  he  still  re- 
members, and  on  all  suitable  occasions,  requires  them  to 
remember,  that   his   citizenship   is   in   heaven.       He   cannot 


THE  HEAVENLY  CITIZEN.  45 

locate  bis  countiy,  as  the  literal  foreigner  can,  beyond  the 
seas.  Tt  is  not  discernable  on  any  geographical  chart 
which  his  eye  can  explore.  But  somewhere  in  the  vast  un- 
iverse it  does  exist;  somewhere  as  a  blessed  and  glorious 
region  it  lies,  realizing,  literally,  all  that  we  dream  of 
when  we  try  to  body  forth  our  idea  of  the  kingdom  of 
God.  He  is  a  citizen  of  that  heaven  from  which  the 
Saviour,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  to  come;  and  that 
heaven,  we  know,  is  a  place,  as  truly  as  was  the  earth 
from  which  he  ascended.  If  we  never  conceive  of  it  as  a 
place,  we  shall  make  of  no  effect  many  precious  and  im- 
portant things  which  are  said  of  it  in  Scripture;  and  if  it 
be  a  place,  it  furnishes  the  scene  and  the  platform  for  a 
real  kingdom  of  heaven.  If  we  never  conceive  of  it  thus, 
if  we  always  interpret  it  (as  we  must  unquestionably  very 
often  do),  as  the  power  of  the  Gospel  in  the  soul  of  a  be- 
liever, or  in  any  part  of  the  world;  or  as  the  visible 
church  we  shall  make  of  no  effect  another  large  body  of 
Scripture  declarations.  If  we  do  not  give  to  our  ideas  of 
this  kingdom,  sometimes,  a  substantial  form,  how  can  we 
understand  such  a  passage  as  that  of  our  Lord's,  "many 
shall  come  from  the  East  and  the  West  and  sit  down  with 
Abraham  and  Isaac  and  Jacob  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven"? 
In  claiming  for  this  kingdom,  a  place  and  a  reality  as  an 
actual  sphere  where  God  is  present  in  his  royal  person  and 
where  he  exercises  his  government  by  a  direct  administra- 
tion, I  am  not  teaching  that  this  kingdom  is  fixed  or  limit- 
ed in  its  dimensions.  I  am  not  teaching,  that  because  it  must 
now  be  said  of  it,  it  is  diverse  and  remote  from  this  world, 
so  that  a  citizen  of  heaven,  at  present  resident  in  this 
world,  has  to  be  considered  a  foreigner,  it  is  not  capable 
of  extending  its  bound,  so  as  to  include  and  incorporate 
with  itself,  ultimately,  this  world  and  perhaps,  all  other  parts 
ot  the  universe,  except  that  region  of  utter  darkness,  where 


46  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

Satan  and  his  followers  are  to  have  their  part  forever.  As 
literally  as  God's  kingdom  exists  now  in  the  place  where 
the  Saviour,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  living,  we  have  rea- 
son to  believe,  it  will  exist  here  on  this  earth  which  is  now 
so  generally  as  a  foreign  land  in  reference  to  this  king- 
dom; and  for  this  we  are  taught  to  pray  by  our  Lord, 
when  we  say,  "thy  kingdom  come,  thy  will  be  done  on 
earth,  as  in  heaven!"  Revolutions  and  purgations,  moral, 
economical  and  physical,  may  make,  and  probably  will  make 
of  this  world,  a  part  of  heaven,  where  angelic  tribes  and 
glorified  men  shall  make  up  the  population,  and  the  sceptre 
of  God's  immediate  government  shall  extend  over  them. 
Then,  the  dweller  upon  earth  will  have  to  be  ranked  no 
longer  as  a  foreigner  in  respect  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 
He  will  have  no^  longer,  like  a  traveler  in  a  strange  country, 
to  sigh  after  a  fatherland  far  beyond  the  blue  horizon,  but 
as  he  treads  the  soil  beneath  him  and  gazes  upon  the  scene 
around  him,  will  be  able  to  say,  "here — here — my  citizen- 
ship is  in  heaven!"  But  this  is  not  possible  now.  Heaven 
must  be  thought  of  as  separated  from  this  world  by  a  wide 
interval,  and  the  Christian  when  he  claims  citizenship  in  it 
is  personating  the  alien  who  is  domiciled  temporarily  in  one 
land  while  the  obligations  of  allegiance  and  the  ties  of 
political  kinship  identify  him  with  another. 

Now,  let  us  take  the  Apostle's  word,  "conversation." 
in  the  text  in  this  sense  as  signifying  not  so  much  a  mode 
of  conduct,  as  a  certain  condition  ot  citizenship  subsisting 
between  the  Christian  and  kingdom  of  God  m  heaven,  out 
of  which  condition  a  very  definite  mode  of  conduct  may  be 
expected  to  issue,  and  see  in  what  particulars  it  may  be 
verified  in  the  experience  and  practice  of  the  Christian. 
You  cannot,  evidently,  make  this  declaration  of  yourself, 
"my  conversation  is  in  heaven,"  without  first  afBrming  of 
yourself  that  you  have  consecrated  yourself  supremely,   both 


THE    HEAVENLY    CITIZEN.  47 

in  the  way  of  character,  and  in  the  way  of  service,  to  God. 
You  must  have  renounced  every  form  of  disaffection  and  re- 
belliousness toward  God.  The  attachment  to  and  service  of 
other  lords  in  which  you  have  been  implicated,  originally, 
j^ou  must  have  repudiated,  and  in  good  faith,  and  from  a 
free  and  cordial  choice,  accepted  the  terms  of  reconciliation 
proposed  to  you  in  the  Gospel;  and  engaged  in  a  personal 
covenant  with  God  to  render  to  Him  all  loyal  love  and 
duty.  How  aptly  this  change  is  described  by  the  Apostle, 
when  reminding  the  Ephesian  Christians  how  they  came  to 
have  their  conversation  in  heaven!  "At  that  time,"  he  says 
(that  is,  in  3-our  original,  natural  state),  "ye  were  without 
Christ,  being  aliens  from  the  commonwealth  of  Israel,  and 
strangers  from  the  covenants  of  promise,  having  no  hope,  and 
without  God  in  the  world.  But  now,  in  Christ  Jesus,  ye  who 
sometime  were  far  oft',  are  made  nigh  by  the  blood  of  Christ. 
Wherefore,  ye  are  now,  no  more,  strangers  and  foreigners, 
but  fellow-citizens  with  the  saints,  and  of  the  household  of 
God. "  As  nations  are  truly  said  to  be  but  families  am- 
plified, the  nation  of  God's  people  are  called  here  his  house- 
hold. Part  of  it  are  actually  dwelling  upon  the  paternal  do- 
main, have  actual  habitation  and  possession  within  the  terri- 
tory of  heaven.  But  a  part  are  sojourners  and  pilgrims  in 
a  strange  country.  They  are  none  the  less  citizens  of  heaven, 
none  the  less  members  of  the  household  of  God.  The 
great  principle  which  identifies  them  with  the  community  of 
God's  people,  is  precisely  the  same  as  that  which  binds  to- 
gether the  actual  population  of  heaven.  "Sometime,"  that 
is,  once,  they  were  far  off,  but  now,  by  the  blood  of  Christ, 
the  medium  of  reconciliation,  they  are  "brought  nigh,"  in- 
corporated with  the  heavenly  commonwealth,  so  as  to  be 
made  foreigners  in  the  world  where  they  were  once  accredit- 
ed citizens;  and  citizens  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  in  re- 
spect to  which,    they  were  once,  aliens  and  enemies.     This 


48  A  pastor's  valeuictoey. 

transfer  of  allegiance  from  other  sovereigns  to  God,  this 
extinguishment  of  other  affinities  in  order  to  the  engrafting 
of  himself  as  a  vital  and  organized  member,  upon  the  body 
of  Christ's  people,  this  change  is  assumed,  clearly,  in  the 
case  of  every  man  who  says  of  himself,  "my  conversation  is 
in  heaven."  And  it  is  a  change  which  implies  a  conversion, 
extending  to  the  very  foundation  of  his  nature;  a  change 
which  amounts  to  an  entire  surrender  of  the  heart  to  God; 
a  change  which  the  Apostle  does  not  hesitate  to  say  consti- 
tutes Ihe  subject  of  it,  "a  new  creature,"  a  new  man;  be- 
cause his  whole  life,  internal  and  external,  passes  under  the 
dominion  of  a  new  principle  or  law.  What  a  process  of 
naturalization  does  in  changing  the  political  condition  and  re- 
lation of  the  subject  of  it,  a  process  of  regeneration  does  for 
the  man  who  becomes  a  citizen  of  heaven.  "Old  things 
are  passed  away — behold  all  things  are  become  new!" 
There  has  been  a  transition  from  one  state  of  being  into 
another  as  marked  as  that  which  a  man  raised  from  the 
dead  would  have  undergone.  As  the  Apostle  affirms  in  so 
many  words  when  he  says  to  the  Romans,  "know  ye  not, 
that  so  many  of  us  as  were  baptized  into  Jesus  Christ, 
were  baptized  into  his  death?  Therefore,  we  are  buried 
with  him  by  baptism,  into  death,  that  like  as  Christ  was 
raised  up  from  the  dead,  by  the  glory  of  the  Father,  even 
so  we  also  should  walk  in  newness  of  life." 

As  a  counterpart  to  this  fact  of  a  sepreme  consecration 
to  God,  we  may  notice  now,  the  posture  in  which  the  man 
whose  conversation  is  in  heaven,  stands  towards  the  world 
in  which  he  is  actually  resident.  As  already  several  times 
remarked,  that  posture  will  be  that  of  a  foreigner.  It 
will  make  him  different  from  the  citizen  of  the  world,  first,  in 
respect  to  the  acknowledgement  of  the  world's  authority. 
This,  in  the  case  of  the  citizen  of  the  world,  is  absolute. 
It  was  expressed  boldly  in  Pharaoh's  question,    "who  is  the 


THE    HEAVENLY    CITIZEN.  49 

Lord,  that  I  should  obey  him?"  In  the  Christian  it  is 
expressed  in  modified  terms — terms  so  carefull}^  modified 
that  they  alwaj's  maintain  intact  the  supremacy  of  God 
over  the  conscience  and  the  life.  And  where  a  collision 
occurs  between  the  authority  of  God  and  the  authority  of 
the  world,  the  Christian  will  reverse  the  question  of  Pha- 
raoh as  boldly  as  he  uttered  it,  and  ask,  "what  is  the  world  ' 
that  I  should  obey  it?"  Only  in  so  far  as  the  world's  be- 
hests and  customs  run  parallel  with  duty  to  God,  will  he 
regard  them.  "My  allegiance  is  due  to  Him,"  is  his  sim- 
ple principle;  and  if  the  behests  and  customs  of  the  world 
make  me  violate  that,  I  must  withdraw  myself  from  their 
operation ;  or  if  this  be  impossible,  I  must  defy  them  and 
take  the  consequences." 

And  so,  secondly,  his  posture  as  a  citizen  of  heaven 
will  include  a  difference  between  him  and  the  man  of  the 
world  in  respect  to  the  degree  in. which  his  affections  are  given 
up  to  the  things  of  the  world.  The  traveler  passes  through 
a  foreign  land,  says  habitually  of  the  things  he  sees,  "they 
are  not  mine.  They  belong  to  a  race  with  whom  I  have 
no  part,  nor  inheritance."  He  does  not  suffer  his  heart, 
therefore,  to.  linger  among  them,  to  fasten  upon  them. 
What  is  admirable  in  them  he  admires;  what  is  innocent 
in  them  he  is  free  to  enjoy;  what  he  is  obliged  to  ask  from 
them  in  the  way  of  refreshment,  he  takes;  but  all  in  the 
temper  of  the  stranger  whose  intercourse  with  them  is  casual 
and  transient,  and  who  feels,  perpetually,  the  force  of  a 
law  upon  his  soul  forbidding  it  to  ally  itself  with  them. 
An  inward  monitor  sits  within  his  breast,  to  check  the  act, 
whenever  the  outgoings  of  his  heart  would  seek  inordinately 
a  union  with  the  world,  with  the  words,  "if  ye,  then,  be  risen 
with  Christ,  seek  those  things  which  be  above,  where  Christ 
sitteth,   on  the  right  hand  of  God!"      "Set  your  affection  on 


50  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

things  above,   not  on  things  on  the  earth,   for  ye  are  dead, 
and  your  life  is  hid  with  Christ,   in   God!" 

Such  a  posture  maintained  towards  the  world,  includes 
in  it,  of  course,  that  precise  mode  of  living  which  the 
Apostle  had  in  his  eye  when  he  used  the  word,  conversa- 
tion, in  the  text.  Being  a  citizen  of  heaven,  the  man's 
conversation,  or  mode  of  living  will  correspond  with  that 
fact.  He  will  mind  heavenly  things,  just  as  the  citizen  of 
the  world  minds  earthly  things.  His  deportment  and  policy 
in  life  will  be  such  as  accords  with  his  citizenship,  and  will 
reveal,  unmistakably,  that  citizenship.  The  Jewish  council 
had  no  difficulty,  after  a  few  minutes'  interview,  in  deter- 
mining of  Peter  and  John,  that  they  had  been  with  Jesus. 
They  inferred  it  from  their  manner,  their  language,  their 
ideas  and  plans.  They  saw  the  spirit  of  Jesus  so  palpably 
transfused  into  them,  that  they  could  not  doubt  they  were 
countrymen  and  kinsmen  of  his;  that  they  were  one  with 
him  in  spiritual  lineage  and  confederation.  You  do  not 
find  any  difficulty  in  recognizing  the  foreigner  who  may  have 
been  thrown  with  your  company.  You  notice  in  him  a  cast 
of  character,  a  national  individuality  which  betrays,  after  a 
little  observation  perhaps,  his  origin.  In  what  he  thinks, 
what  he  relishes,  what  he  does,  in  his  tastes,  habits,  pur- 
suits, his  peculiarities  of  mind  and  demeanor,  you  will  have 
a  clue  which  can  hardly  fail  to  guide  you  to  the  quarter 
whence  his  citizenship  has  been  derived.  So,  the  Christian 
will  evince,  by  his  habitual  walk,  and  the  form  and  bent  of 
his  mindings,  his  likings,  his  choosings,  his  strivings  and 
seekings,  his  schemings  and  behavings,  that  his  citizenship 
is  in  heaven,  that  his  relation  to  the  present  world  is  that 
of  a  foreigner  who  feels  that  his  connection  with  the  things 
around  him  is  brief  and  superficial,  and  that  the  objects 
which  are  entitled  to  his  chief  regard  are  located  in  a  dis. 
tant  sphere.      And  so,   his  conversation  is  in  heaven,   because 


THE    HEAVENLY    CITIZEN.  51 

it  is  a  consistent  and  practical  exposition  of  the  fact  that 
he  is  a  pilgrim  and  a  stranger  on  the  earth,  and  a  citizen 
of  heaven.  He  acts  his  part  in  the  world  in  such  a  cautious 
manner,  with  such  moderation  ot  spirit,  and  such  a  conscien- 
tious reserve,  with  such  a  subordination  of  all  his  works 
and  endeavors  to  the  end  of  maintaining  a  good  name,  a 
good  estate,  and  a  good  hope,  as  a  member  of  the  kingdom 
of  Christ,  that  no  one  can  fail  to  take  knowledge  of  him 
that  his  citizenship  is  in  that  kingdom.  The  prominence 
which  the  x\postle  gives  to  this  feature  of  the  Christian 
life,  shows  us,  my  brethren,  what  deep  significance  he  was 
accustomed  to  attach  to  it;  and  commends  it,  very  particu- 
larly, to  our  consideration.  Your  conversation  determines 
the  order  or  type  of  your  citizenship.  Your  minding  and 
your  walking  will  indicate  the  plane  in  which  your  living 
lies.  If  these  are  occupied  supremely  about  earthly  things, 
then  your  living  is  identified  with  the  earth,  and  your  citi- 
zenship must  be  in  the  earth.  You  cannot,  surely,  expect 
your  claim  to  be  a  citizen  of  heaven  to  be  allowed,  when 
your  conduct  is  giving  an  unequivocal  testimony  to  the  fact 
that  your  attachments  and  your  interests  are  all  on  the  side 
of  the  world.  If  you  were  to  exhibit  such  a  recreancy  to 
your  nationality  as  a  member  of  an}^  human  government, 
you  would  be  called  a  traitor.  Remember,  then,  that  the 
proof  of  that  citizenship  in  heaven  which  can  entitle  you  to 
be  called  a  Christian,  is  a  conversation  corresponding  with 
that  citizenship,  a  conversation  in   heaven! 

A  further  evidence  of  this  citizenship,  I  may  now  re- 
mark, is  to  be  found  in  the  disposition  of  a  person  to  en- 
trust his  hopes  and  interests  to  such  securities  as  are  fur- 
nished by  the  kingdom  of  God.  You  invest  your  property 
where  you  suppose  it  to  be  safest.  You  lodge  your  goods 
in  the  custody  of  those  in  whom  you  put  credit.  The  for- 
eign trader   makes   good  his  claim   to  citizenship    under   the 


52  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

government  from  which  he  has  come,  by  converting  the 
profits  of  his  trading  into  the  currency  of  that  country;  and 
conveying  them  to  the  fiscal  agencies  which  it  employs  for 
safekeeeping.  In  other  words,  he  goes  abroad  to  get  his 
earnings,  but  sends  them  home  for  deposit.  You  will  make 
good  your  claim  to  the  character  of  a  Christian  by  devoting 
the  labors  of  the  present  life  to  the  acquisition  of  treasure 
in  heaven.  There  is  a  meat  which  perisheth,  the  Saviour 
tells  us,  and  there  is  a  meat  which  endureth  unto  everlast- 
ing life.  The  one  is  the  gratification  which  the  world  gives 
its  votaries  here;  the  other  is  the  enjoyment  consequent  up- 
on a  life  spent  in  the  service  of  Christ,  to  be  experienced 
hereafter.  According  as  one's  citizenship  is  located  in  the 
here,  or  the  hereafter,  will  he  be  disposed  to  seek  a  return  for 
his  means  and  resources  in  the  gratifications  of  the  world, 
or  in  the  enjoyments  of  a  future  state.  You  will  naturally 
aim  to  have  your  wealth  placed  under  the  same  shelter  to 
which  you  have  committed  yourself;  identified,  so  to  speak, 
with  the  same  region  and  government  with  which  you  have 
identified  yourself.  Are  you  a  citizen  of  heaven,  occupying 
the  position  of  a  foreigner  here  on  the  earth?  Then  you 
may,  fairly,  be  challenged  to  verify  your  character  by  show- 
ing in  your  scheme  of  life,  that  you  are  laboring  for  a 
treasure  which  is  to  be  possessed  in  that  locality  with  which 
you  are  permanently  connected,  and  not  in  that  in  which 
you  have  only  a  wayfarer's  interest.  The  Christian's  thrift 
is  a  thrift  governed  by  his  citizenship,  and  hence  directed 
to  the  accumulation  of  a  property  which  may  serve  him 
in  heaven,  rather  than  tliat  whose  use  is  confined  to  this 
world.  This  was  the  thrift  recommended  by  the  Saviour  in 
his  parable  of  the  unjust  steward,  when  he  subjoined  the 
counsel  to  his  disciples,  "I  say  unto  you,  make  to  yourselves 
friends  of  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness"  (or  earthly 
riches)    "that   when    ye    fail,"    (or   are    dislodged  from  your 


THE  HEAVENLY  CITIZEN.  53 

present  abode)  "they  may  receive  you  into  everlasting  hab- 
itations!" And  this  was  the  thrift  which  Paul  desires  Tim- 
othy, so  urgently,  to  inculcate,  when  he  writes,  "charge 
them  that  are  rich  in  this  world,  that  they  be  not  high- 
minded,  nor  trust  in  uncertain  riches,  but  in  the  living  God 
who  giveth  us  richly  all  things  to  enjoy;  that  they  do 
good,  that  they  be  rich  in  good  works,  ready  to  distribute, 
willing  to  commmnicate;  laying  up  in  store  for  themselves 
a  good  foundation  against  the  time  to  come,  that  they  may 
lay  hold  on  eternal  life." 

And  to  this,  add  now,  as  the  last  point  in  the  exposi- 
tion of  this  citizenship  which  I  shall  have  time  to  notice, 
that  the  person  claiming  it  may  be  expected  to  exhibit  a 
certain  harmony  of  character  with  heaven,  and  a  certain 
outlooking  or  tendency  of  the  soul  towards  heaven,  as  the 
ultimate  goal  of  his  desires.  Surely,  the  foreigner,  by  the 
mere  act  of  confessing  himself  a  foreigner,  is  avowing  a 
personal  and  sensible  interest  in  his  own  land,  and  is  giv- 
ing evidence  of  a  certain  abiding  sympathy  with  it  in  his 
heart.  You  have  heard  of  the  Swiss  soldiers  thrown  into 
fever,  and  dying  even,  under  the  effect  of  the  hearing  of 
one  of  their  national  songs,  when  far  from  their  Alpine 
home.  Some  such  species  of  association,  some  such  vital 
chord,  must  intervene  between  the  Christian  and  his  home 
in  heaven;  and  through  that  as  a  medium,  plastic  and  at- 
tractive forces  from  heaven  must  be  perpetually  moving 
and  acting  upon  heart,  as  the  breathings  of  the  air  touch 
and  vocalize  the  strings  of  the  ^olian  harp.  And  the 
effect  appears  in  what  I  have  described  as  a  certain  har- 
mony of  character  with,  and  a  certain  tendency  of  soul  to- 
wards heaven.  The  presence  of  such  a  harmony  and  such 
a  tendency  is  clearly  alluded  to  by  the  Apostle  when  he 
speaks  of  Christians  becoming  "meet  to  be  partakers  of  the 
the   inheritance   of    the    Saints    in    light,"    and    being    made 


54  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

"partakers  of  the  Divine  nature;"  and  when  he  represents 
the  ancient  believers  as  "desiring  a  better  country,  even  a 
heavenly,"  and  as  "looliing  for  a  city  which  hath  founda- 
tions, whose  builder  and  maker  is  God."  Such  results  so 
naturally  follow  the  sense  of  citizenship  in  heaven,  in  the 
heart,  that  we  are  warranted  in  concluding  that  when  they 
do  not  appear  in  some  form  or  degree,  the  claim  to  such 
citizenship  must  be,  at  least,  equivocal.  Can  the  foreigner 
be  honest  in  continuing  to  bear  that  character,  unless  he  is 
careful  to  cherish  the  distinctive  traits  of  the  national  fam- 
ily to  which  he  belongs?  And  unless  he  keeps  warm  and 
vigorous  the  tie  of  kinship  which  invites  him  to  it?  Are 
you.  Christian,  really  a  stranger  and  a  pilgrim  here  in  your 
present  place  of  sojourn,  and  is  there  no  effort  of  the  soul 
to  shape  itself  after  the  dear  ideal  of  the  actual  citizen  of 
that  heaven  which  you  call  your  country?  And  no  yearn- 
ings of  the  soul  going  out  towards  that  country,  and  grasp- 
ing it  by  anticipation  as  3'our  own?  This  cannot  be.  And 
if  3'ou  are  conscious  of  no  such  effort  and  no  such  yearn- 
ing, there  is  reason  to  fear  you  are  a  foreigner  in  the 
world  only  in  name,  and  are  so  really  identified  with  the 
world  that  you  have  no  model  to  aspire  after,  and  no  home 
to  desire  better  than  what  the  world  affords  you. 

And  now,  dear  brethren,  let  me  close  this  review  of 
the  features  which  mark  the  citizen  of  the  heavenly  king- 
dom with  this  admonition:  Remember  that  if  the  portrait 
we  have  drawn  is  to  be  verified  in  you,  you  must  stand  on 
higher  ground  than  that  occupied  by  the  man  of  natural  or 
acquired  morality,  or  of  the  man  who  fulfills  the  letter  of 
the  law  in  the  matter  of  outward  religious  observances.  A 
citizen  of  heaven!  That  is  the  grand  attribute,  the  essen- 
tial privilege  and  glory  of  the  Christian.  To  be  in  the 
world,  and  yet  not  of  the  world;  to  bear  about  with  one 
the   loneliness  of    the  stranger's  lot,   and  yet,   carry  in  one's 


THE    HEAVENLY    CITIZEN.  55 

own  hand  the  royal  patent  which  attests  him  as  the  kins- 
man of  the  popuhation  of  the  skies;  to  walk  amidst  earthly 
pomps  and  potencies,  and  smile  as  one  thinks  how  insignifi- 
cant this  pageant  compared  with  the  Fatherland  of  God's 
children;  to  go  through  scenes  of  lowly  toil  or  pining  grief 
and  be  able  to  reflect,  this  is  the  sowing  of  tears  which 
will  yield  me  a  harvest  of  joy,  and  the  refiring  of  the 
flame  which  will  make  the  gold  brighter  in  my  crown,  this 
IS  the  high  distinction  which  enobles  God's  saints  m  their 
present  pilgrim  state!  It  is  a  distinction  which  Jesus,  in 
the  Gospel,  offers  to  all.  The  heirs  of  sin  and  death  may 
all  be  enrolled  in  the  Book  of  Life!  Think  of  this,  ye 
weary  and  heavy-laden  serv^ants  of  the  world!  The  registry 
of  heaven's  citizenship  is  lying  open  before  you,  ready  to 
admit  your  names!  "Whosoever  will  let  him  come."  Be- 
hold, yet  there  is  room,"  is  the  invitation.  0  my  uncon- 
verted   friends,     once    more    listen    to    these    overtures    of 

mercy ! 

Seize  the  kind  promise  while  it  wait.*-, 
And  march  to  Zion's  heavenly  gates! 
Believe,  and  take  the  promised  rest! 
Obey,  and  be  forever  blest! 


JACOB'S  LADDER, 

AUGUST.  10,  1851. 


"And  he  dreamed,  and  behold  a  ladder  set  up  on  the  earth, 
and  the  top  of  it  reached  to  heaven  ;  and  behold  the  angels  of 
God  ascending  and  descending  on  it." — Genesis  38:12. 


THIS  dream  which  Jacob  bad  on  his  way  to  Padan-aram 
was  an  extraordinary  method  of  intimating  to  him  va- 
rious things,  which  God  saw  fit  at  that  juncture  to 
make  known  to  him.  Revelations  were  thus  frequently 
granted  to  the  patriarchs  and  holy  men  of  old  in  the  night- 
visions.  A  dream,  which  is  ordinarily  the  least  substantial 
and  authentic  of  all  things,  was  made  the  vehicle  of  com- 
municating to  their  minds  the  most  important  messages  from 
heaven  ;  their  minds  in  such  cases  having  been  prepared, 
doubtless  to  apprehend  the  Divine  source  and  credible  na- 
ture of  the  communication.  The  point  of  time,  at  which 
God  appeared  to  Jacob,  as  recorded  in  the  text,  is  a  matter 
that  needs  to  be  kept  in  view  in  interpreting  the  vision 
which  he  saw  in  his  dream.  At  this  point,  Isaac,  we  may 
say,  retires  from  the  page  of  sacred  history.  We  have  no 
further  mention  of  him,  except  the  brief  passage  at  the 
close  of  the  35th  chapter,  which  tells  of  his  death  and 
burial.  His  agency  in  the  field  of  events,  with  which  the 
church  was  connected,  and  the  scheme  of  human  redemption 
involved,  terminated  here  ;  Jacob  now  takes  his  place.  He 
passes  now  from  his  position  as  a  private  personage  into 
that  of  a  public   or   official   one.      The   great   promise    of   a 

66 


JACOB' S    LADDER.  57 

Messuih  wbicli  was  the  hope  of  the  world,  here  attaches  it- 
self to  him,  as  a  new  link  in  the  chain  of  instruments  by 
means  of  which  God  was  bringing  about  its  fulfillment. 
There  was  therefore,  we  can  see,  a  special  fitness  in  his  be- 
ing recognized  just  here  in  his  new  chai'acter,  and  inaugu- 
rated, as  it  were,  with  his  new  office.  At  the  same  time 
there  were  many  things  in  his  situation,  viewed  merely  as  a 
private  individual  at  this  juncture,  which  furnished  a  very 
adequate  occasion  for  the  interposition  of  God.  He  was 
standing  at  the  threshhold  of  active  and  independent  life, 
though  his  years  must  have  been  far  in  advance  of  those 
which  now  mark  the  line  between  youth  and  manhood.  His 
worldly  fortunes  were  now  for  the  first  time  suspended  upon 
his  own  single  arm.  He  was  a  wanderer  too,  fleeing  from 
his  home  and  compelled  to  endure  the  hardships  of  a  soli- 
tary journey,  and  an  exile  of  unknown  length  from  his  kin- 
dred, in  order  to  escape  the  vengeance  of  his  infuriated 
brother  If  he  had  repented  of  the  wrong  he  had  done,  in 
deceiving  his  father,  as  we  may  resonably  suppose,  and  if 
God  were  pleased  to  manifest  to  him,  again,  the  tokens  of 
his  favor;  now  evidently  was  the  time,  when  he  needed  all 
the  comfort  and  assurance  which  a  communication  from  heav- 
en might  impart.  The  revelation  which  was  made  to  him, 
was  designed  and  adapted  to  meet  his  case  in  all  these  par- 
ticulars. 

In  the  course  of  his  journey  to  Padan-aran  ;  probably 
at  the  end  of  his  first  day's  progress,  he  lighted  upon  a 
certain  place,  and  tarried  there  all  night  ;  making  the  ground 
his  bed,  and  a  heap  of  stones  his  pillow.  Outwardly,  his 
condition  at  this  moment  indicated  anything  else,  but  the 
fact  that  he  was  an  object  of  the  peculiar  favor  of  heaven. 
But  while  he  slept,  his  soul  was  rapt  into  a  scene  widely 
different  from  that  which  his  waking  eyes  would  have  be- 
held.     He  saw  the  heavens  above  him  opening,   and  an   ob- 


58  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

jeet  (which  fioin  its  use,  probably,  rather  than  its  appear- 
ance) is  called  in  the  sacred  narrative,  a  ladder,  descending 
until  its  foot  rested  upon  the  earth  beside  him.  Along  this 
radiant  track  iustantlj'  appeared  a  company  of  celestial 
travelers,  the  angels  of  God,  ascending  and  descending. 
Their  glorious  forms  passing  downward  and  upward  in  a  con- 
tinuous column,  seemed  doubtless,  to  the  patriarch's  sight 
to  be  weaving  a  girdle  of  living  light  between  earth  and 
heaven.  They  filled  up  the  interval  which  naturally  seems 
to  lie  between  those  two  worlds,  bridging  over  as  it  were, 
with  their  shining  ranks  the  chasm  that  before  had  divided 
the  abode  of  man  from  the  home  of  God,  and  thus  bring- 
ing the  two  localities  into  conjunction  and  harmony.  What 
wei'e  the  impressions  made  upon  Jacob's  mind  by  this  won- 
derful vision,  we  can  only  partially  determine,  but  with  the 
aid  of  scripture  we  can  perhaps,  decipher  a  few  of  the 
meanings  it  was  intended  to  .convey.  It  has  been  common 
to  regard  it  as  a  s3'mbolical  representation  of  the  Providence 
of  God,  and  of  the  peculiar  share  which  Jacob  had  in  the 
care  and  supervision  of  that  providence.  And  this  it  did 
no  doubt  indicate.  But  it  seems  to  me,  that  the  use  of 
the  vision  is  only  half  explained  by  making  it  thus  a  sj'm- 
bol  of  divine  Providence  merel}'.  There  was  something  ly- 
ing back  of  Providence,  and  upon  which  the  peculiar  agen- 
cy of  Providence  toward  Jacob  was  based,  which  was  also 
meant  to  be  illustrated,  and  which  ought  to  be  considered 
as  the  primary  object  of  the  vision.  Jacob,  let  it  be  re- 
membered, was  now  the  representative  of  a  line  of  persons 
and  of  a  chosen  people,  with  whom  God  had  been  pleased 
to  enter  into  covenant.  That  covenant  contemplated  as  its  re- 
sult, not  only  the  making  this  line  of  persons,  or  this  cho- 
sen people,  the  objects  of  his  favor  ;  but  the  making  them 
the  channel  and  outward  apparatus,  so  to  speak,  by  which  his 
favor  should  be  manifested  toward  the  whole  apostate  family 


JACOBS    LADDER.  59 

of    man.      The    covenant    vvliicli    God    made    with    the  Patri- 
arclis  contained  as  its  great  capital  blessing  the   promise    of 
a  Redeemer.      In  that  point  all  its  rays  of  mercy  converged. 
This  the  New  Testament  writers  clearly    show.      They  affirm 
over  and  over  again,   that  just  those  identical  benefits,  which 
it  was  the  bnsmess  of  the  gospel,  which    they    preached,    to 
offer  to  the  world  (benefits  which  were  all    based    upon    the 
redemption  effected  by  Christ)  were  what  had    been    pointed 
out  and  intended  in  all  tliose  declarations  of  God   to    Abra- 
sam,   Isaac  and  Jacob,    that  "in  them  and  their  seed  should 
all  the  families  of  the  earth  be  blessed  "     The  result,  there- 
fore to  which    the    covenant    made    with    these    ancient    ser- 
vants of  God  always  had  reference,   was   the    benefits    which 
should  accrue  to  the  world,  through  this  Redemption.      These 
benefits  are  summed  up  in  reconciliation  to  God.      -'God  was 
in  Christ"  says  the  apostle,   explaining  Redemption  in  a  sin- 
gle sentence,  "reconciling  the  world  unto  himself."     Reconcil- 
iation operates  to  unite  parties,  who  have  formerly  been  sepa- 
rated.     In  the  case  before  us,   it  operates  to  change  the  at- 
titude and    character  of   men   as   a  race   in   rebellion  against 
God,  and  to  remove  the    causes    which   made    it  proper    and 
necessar}'   in    God  to   with-draw  his  favor  from  men.      Its  ef- 
fect is  to    open   a   channel    of    friendly    mtercourse    between 
earth   and  heaven,    to   fasten  a  girdle  as  it  were,  around   these 
two  severed  territories,   and  to  join  them    again    in  relations 
of    amity    and    concord.      Now  the  vision  which  appeared  to 
Jacob  in  his  dream  ma}^    I  think  without  any  stretch  of  fan- 
cy, be  taken  as  a  symbolic  representation  of  the  grand  com- 
prehensive   result,    which  was  to  be  eflfected  through  Christ, 
that    is,    the  reconciliation  of  the  world  to    God,    the    re-es- 
tablishing of  harmony  between  man  and    the    throne    of    his 
sovereign  from  which  he  had  been  separated  by  revolt.     The 
vision  thus  illustrates  fitly  what  was  signified  by  that  prom- 
ise which  God  in  immediate  connection  with  it  proceeded  to 


60  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

make  to  .lucob,  "in  thee  and  in  thy  seed  shall  all  the  fam- 
ilies ot  the  earth  be  blessed."  And  in  this  view  of  it,  too, 
we  see  a  ground  for  that  reference  to  this  vision  of  Jacob's 
and  that  comparison  of  himself  to  the  ladder,  which  the 
Saviour  obviously  intended  to  make,  when  he  said  to  his 
disciples,  "hereafter  ye  shall  see  heaven  open  and  the 
angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending  upon  the  Son 
of  man."  What  Jacob  saw  symbolized  in  his  vision  of  the 
ladder  and  the  attending  incidents,  Christ  says  his  diciples 
should  see  realized,  actually  fulfilled,  in  the  effect  of  his 
personal  appearance  upon  earth.  The  son  of  man,  like  that 
ladder,  should  bridge  the  chasm  that  had  previously  divided 
the  abode  of  fallen  man  from  the  home  of  a  holy  God.  He 
should  remove  the  wall  of  partition,  the  causes  of  separa- 
tion, between  them.  He  should  draw  down  the  beneficient 
powers  of  heaven  to  cheer  the  darkness  of  earth  with  their 
glory,  and  he  should  open  a  new  and  living  way  of  access 
into  the  presence  chamber  of   a  propitiated  Divinity. 

What  Jacob  had  presented  to  his  mind  therefore  in  this 
vision,  if  this  view  of  it  be  correct,  was  a  type  or  figure  of 
the  blessings  which  was  designed  for  him  and  ultimately  for 
all  the  world,  in  the  covenant  which  God  had  made  with  his 
father,  .and  which  he  was  now  about  to  renew  with  himself. 
Like  Abraham,  he  may  be  said  here,  to  have  seen  the  day 
of  Christ.  He  heard  in  anticipation  the  song  of  "peace  on 
earth  and  good  will  toward  man,"  sung  by  the  angels  of 
God.  He  beheld  a  ladder  to  the  skies  planting  itself  beside 
the  spot  where  humanity  lay,  passive  and  helpless  in  its 
fall.  We  may  say  therefore,  that  the  first  design  of  his 
vision  was  to  set  before  him  a  striking  representation  of  the 
blessings  of  the  new  covenant  which  God  had  established 
with  man,  in  Christ,  who  was  to  be  his  seed  according  to 
the  flesh. 


Jacob's  ladder.  61 

And  this  symbolical  revelation  to  liim,  of  the  ground 
upon  which  God's  favor  was  to  be  bestowed  upon  man,  ex- 
hibited a  ground,  too,  for  other  blessings,  which  were  em- 
braced in  the  signification  of  his  vision.  The  God  who 
had  thus  appeared  entering  into  covenant  with  him,  in  Christ 
and  opening  heaven  as  it  were,  to  shed  upon  him  the  light 
of  his  reconciled  countenance ;  might  well  be  expected  to 
appear  as  his  helper,  and  protector,  and  comforter,  in  his 
seasons  of  present  distress.  And  here  comes  in  the  bearing 
of  the  vision  upon  what  we  call  the  Providence  of  God. 
Jacob,  first,  is  exhibited  as  being  taken  into  covenanted  re- 
lation to  God,  so  as  to  be  made  an  object  of  that  peculiar 
favor  which  is  founded  upon  the  redemption  of  Christ,  and 
the  reconciliation  effected  by  it ;  and  then,  he  appears  as 
taken  under  the  care  of  Providence  and  made  an  object  of 
Divine  favor,  so  far  as  that  fav<jr  is  connected  with  benefits 
in  this  life.  God  says  to  him,  not  only  "in  thee  and  in 
thy  seed  shall  all  the  families  of  the  earth  be  blessed,''  but 
"I  am  with  thee  and  will  keep  thee  in  all  places  whither 
thou  goest,  and  will  bring  thee  again  into  this  land,  for  I 
will  not  leave  thee  until  I  have  done  that  which  I  have 
spoken  to  thee  of."  Now,  all  the  temporal  blessings  involved 
in  these  promises  (and  which  followed  reasonably  upon 
the  covenanted  relation  in  which  he  now  stood  toward  God) 
were  meant,  1  suppose,  to  be  confirmed  and  symbolized,  al- 
so, in  his  vision.  God  was  thereby  shown  to  him  as  a  God 
near  at  hand  and  not  afar  off  ;  and  the  angels  of  God  par- 
ticularly exhibited  to  him  as  an  emblem  of  the  strength  and 
power  which  were  engaged  to  serve  him.  The  fitness  of  the 
emblem  appears  from  the  way  in  which  these  exalted  be- 
ings are  always  spoken  of  in  Scripture.  Thus  they  are  de- 
scribed by  the  Psalmist  as  "they  that  excel  in  strength." 
God  often  does  not  deem  it  unworthy  of  himself  to  associ- 
ate them  with  him  in  order  to  make  a  more  imposing  show 


62  A  pastor's  valedictouy. 

of  his  omnipotence  and  greatness,  and  calls  himself,  "the 
Lord,  or  Jehovah  of  liosts, "  The  angels  are  again  said  to 
be  his  "ministers  that  do  his  pleasnre"  and  to  be  "all  min- 
istering spirits  sent  forth  to  minister  for  them  who  shall  be 
heirs  of  salvation.'"  Their  presence  on  this  occasion,  was 
therefore  an  exhibition  made  to  Jacob  for  his  comfort  and 
assurance,  of  the  energies  of  God  that  were  ready  to  be  em- 
ployed in  fulfilling  his  promises.  Strength,  vigilance,  sym- 
pathy, friendly  guardian-ship  ;  in  a  word,  the  combined  re- 
sources and  powers  of  an  angelic  army  prepared  to  tly  from 
heaven  to  earth,  and  earth  to  heaven  to  execute  their  sov- 
ereign's command  ;  are  here  set  before  him,  as  a  security 
for  all  that  God  had  engaged  to  do  for  him. 

And  what  a  strange  contrast  such  a  pectacle  spresented 
to  the  position  which  he  would  have  seemed  to  an  observer 
at  that  moment  to  have  been  in  !  On  the  one  side  lay  the 
patriarch,  a  solitary  wanderer,  without  a  human  face  to  smile 
upon  him,  or  an  arm  on  earth  upon  which  he  could  lean.  But 
on  the  other  side  were  bright  winged  messengers  from  (he 
skies,  hovering  about  his  resting  place,  and  furnishing  him 
with ,  a  band  of  attendants  such  as  outshone  the  retinue 
of  Kings.  On  the  one  side  was  weakness,  on  the  other 
was  the-  might  of  i)rincipalities  and  powers  in  heavenly 
places.  On  the  one  side  was  poverty,  on  the  other,  the 
voice  of  God  declaring  "the  land  whereon  thou  best  to 
thee  will  I  give  it  and  to  thy  seed;"  and  the  mystic  ladder 
pointing  up  to  a  better  land  on  high  On  the  one  side,  in 
a  word,  was  the  world  of  sense,  desolate,  perilous  and  dark; 
on  the  other,  was  the  world  of  faith,  glowing  with  the  pre- 
sence of  a  smiling  God,  peopled  with  the  bright  forms  of 
angel  friends,  and  stretching  away  in  dazzling  perspective, 
into  the  glory  of  heaven. 

Here  then  briefly  developed  we  may  say,  are  a  few  tan- 
gible points,  which  we  may  discover  in  this  vision  of  Jacob's. 


Jacob's  ladder.  63 

God  appears  ia  it,  meeting  huii  at  an  important  juncture 
in  his  life,  and  enters  into  covenant  with  him  ;  and  in 
order  to  prepare  him  for  the  new  relation  and  position,  re- 
veals to  him  first,  the  grand  blessing  to  which  the  covenant 
had  reference,  which  was  the  reconciliation  of  the  world  to 
himself,  and  then  holds  out  to  \i\m  a  pledge  and  type  of 
the  providential  blessings,  which,  as  a  consequence  of  his 
own  interest  in  the  covenant,  were  engaged  to  him.  With- 
out dwelling  longer  upon  the  import  of  the  vision,  as  it  con- 
cerned Jacob,  let  me  now,  take  this  incident  in  his  history, 
explained  as  it  has  been,  as  an  illustration  of  a  few  things 
in  God's  dealings  with  men  in    general. 

I  see  in  it,  much  that  resembles  his  way  of  approacii- 
ing  and  addressing  those,  who,  like  Jacob  are  standing  at 
the  starting  point  of  their  active  life,  with  the  world  all  lie- 
fore  them,  inviting  them  to  chose  their  path  and  win  their 
prizes.  Cutting  loose  the  ties  of  puuilage  and  dependence, 
which  have  hitherto  held  him  in  salutaiy  restraint,  I  see 
the  youth  going  forth  alone,  to  meet  and  make  his  fortune. 
Whither  shall  he  turn  his  steps  ?  What  goal  shall  be  set 
before  him  ?  What  clue  shall  he  find  to  direct  him  through 
the  labyrinthine  scene  before  him,  to  the  spot  where  happi- 
ness shall  reward  his  search  ?  His  heart  is  full  of  airy 
images.  Schemes,  and  conjectures  ;  and  hopes  crowd  uinm 
his  mind  at  every  pause  in  his  eager  march.  And  then  it 
is,  that  a  vision  like  that  of  the  text,  breaks  in  ui)Ou  his 
dreams.  God  plants  as  it  were,  right  across  his  path,  a 
ladder,  whose  top  reaches  to  heaven,  and  upon  it  the  angels 
seem  to  come  down  to  win  him  back  with  them  to  the  skies. 
Such  a  vision  may  be  said  to  come  to  him  in  every  means 
and  method  which  God  employs  to  make  him  sacrifice  earth- 
ly good  for  heavenly,  and  choose  the  way  of  piety  instead 
of  those  of  worldliness  and  sin.  The  Gospel,  wherever  it  is 
known,   is  accustomed  thus  to  meet  the  young  ;  and  to  seize 


64  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

some  season  of  silence  and  rest  to  propose  to  them  the  cov- 
enant in  which  God  offers  them  his  favor  freely  in  Christ, 
and  engages  to  give  them  support,  and  protection,  and 
comfort,  as  the}'  need  them  on  earth.  "Seek  first,  the  king. 
dom  of  God  and  his  righteousness"  it  says  to  them,  "and 
all  these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you."  Choose  Christ, 
as  your  way,  your  ladder  ;  and  heaven  as  your  destination, 
and  all  that  the  angels  represented  to  Jacob,  will  be  yours. 
The  strength,  the  love,  the  care,  the  sympathy  of  the  Lord 
of  hosts,  will  be  secured  to  you  All  things  shall  work  to- 
gether for  your  good.  Many  a  young  person,  who  feels, 
day  by  day,  that  he  is  getting  more  and  more  immersed  in 
the  world  ;  advancuig  farther  and  farther  into  its  business 
and  excitement  and  cares,  has  seen  in  his  dreams,  or  the 
serious  thoughts  that  have  visited  him  upon  his  pillow;  this 
vision  of  the  ladder  standing  in  his  path,  has  heard  in  his 
heart  this  call  of  God  to  him,  to  make  his  peace  with  him 
to  secure  his  favor  as  the  only  true  security  for  happiness 
and  prosperity  ;  and  has  marked,  perhaps,  among  the  angels 
hovering  about  the  ladder,  the  forms  of  sainted  parents  and 
friends  beckoning  him  to  join  them  in  their  heavenly  home. 
Such  visions  do  recur  continually  in  the  experience  of  the 
young  ;  and  never  finally  leave  them,  till  they  have  driven 
them  away  by  willful  and  protracted  resistance.  And  it  in- 
dicates an  alarming  maturity  in  guilt,  and  a  long  departure 
from  the  way  of  happiness  when  these  images  of  the  Sav- 
iour, the  true  ladder  that  would  lead  them  to  heaven,  meet 
them  in  their  dreams  no  mor  •.  The  world  may  seem  to 
smile  upon  them,  and  what  they  call  fortune  to  favor  them 
and  a  temporary  prosperity  reward  their  efforts,  but  there  is 
nothing  of  God's  favor  in  all  this;  and  without  that  there 
is  no  stable,  no  real  happiness.  Happiness,  aside  from  the 
covenant  which  binds  God  to  us  as  a  friend,  happiness 
which  has  not  its  basis  and  spring  in  those  resources  of  Di- 


Jacob's  ladder.  65 

vine  power  and  wisdom  and  love  and  care  which  the  cove- 
nant secures  to  us,  is  an  illusion,  which  may  charm  for 
a  seasoo,  but  must  be  dissipated  at  last.  It  is  a  cup  of 
sweet  poison ;  and  though  it  may  intoxicate  for  a  while, 
there  is  bitterness  and  pain  and  death  in  it  in  the  end.  I 
charge  you,  therefore,  my  hearers,  those  of  you  who  are 
still  young,  hot  to  let  the  happiness  which  an  irreligious 
life  ofl'ers  you,  begile  you  beyond  the  spot  where  the  ladder 
and  the  angels,  where  the  favor  and  the  blessings  of  the 
covenant,  are  standing  before  you,  and  inviting  you  to  the 
arras  of  a  reconciled  God,   and  to  the  glories  of  heaven. 

I  see,  too,  in  this  vision  of  Jacob  an  illustration  of 
the  condition  of  the  child  of  God  in  a  season  of  trial  and 
affliction.  From  the  sweet  home,  where  his  heart  had  nes- 
tled, he  has  been  driven  out  by  some  invading  sorrow,  and 
he  wanders  now  in  solitude,  and  sleeps  on  the  stony  couch 
which  grief  had  spread  for  him.  His  heart  too  is  full  of 
dreams  ;  dreams  of  the  past  and  the  lost,  dreams  of  want 
and  suffering  in  a  cheerless  future.  But  behold  in  the  midst 
of  his  dream,  God  brings  to  view  the  ladder;  and  on  the 
dark  eartli,  -its  radiant  foot  is  set,  and  in  the  bright  heav- 
ens its  lofty  top  is  lost ,  and  upward  and  downwards  along 
its  shining  track  the  angels,  symbols  all  of  God's  strength, 
and  love,  and  care,  and  sympathy,  and  pledged  to  him  in 
the  covenant,  and  ministers  all,  of  hope,  and  peace,  and 
consolation,  are  gliding  in  noiseless  procession.  The  sight 
tranquilizes  his  spirit,  and  charms  it  out  of  its  gloom.  It 
shows  him  that  God  is  his,  reconciled  in  Christ.  It  tells 
him  what  divine  resources  are  his.  It  animates  him  with 
a  courage,  a  force,  and  sustains  him  with  a  power  which 
nature  knew  nothing  of.  Nothing  has  ever  so  taught  him 
nothing  can  CA^er  so  teach  us,  what  a  refuge  and  support  we 
have  in  God,  as  affliction  does.  Christ  then  in  reality  be- 
comes our  ladder,  through  whom  our  sorrowing  spirits  escape 


66  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

from  the  cares  and  the  woes  of  earth,  to  shelter  themselves 
in  the  bosom  of  our  Father,  God.  And  the  promises,  come 
down  to  us  like  descending  angels,  and  leave  the  •  heavens 
open  as  they  come  ;  till  over  the  scene  of  sanctified  sorrow, 
we  can  exclaim  with  Jacob,  "surely  the  Lord  is  in  this 
place,  and  I  knew  it  not.  This  is  none  other  but  the  house 
of  God,  and  this  is  the  gate  of  heaven."  It  must  be  a  hard 
thing  to  have  to  wander  in  the  solitudes  of  bereavement,  or 
feleep  on  the  stony  pillow  of  care  and  want,  without  this 
vision  ot  the  ladder  and  the  angels,  without  the  provision 
of  the  covenant,  and  the  love  and  faithfulness  of  a  recon- 
ciled God,  to  rest  upon.  But  this  is  what  God  never  means 
his  children  to  do.  It  is  a  part  of  his  covenant  to  smite 
and  chasten  them  when  they  need  it  ;  but  it  is  equally  a 
part  of  his  covenant  to  keep  the  floods  from  overflowing 
them,  and  the  flame  from  kindling  upon  them  ;  and  no  part 
of  his  covenant  will  ever  fail  through  any  fault  of  his.  "In 
the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulations,"  said  Christ  "but  be 
of  good  cheer,  *I  have  overcome  the  world."  I  have  plant- 
ed a  ladder,  upon  which,  the  angels  come  down,  and  over 
which  the  heavenly  glory  shines  in  every  path  of  sorrow, 
and  my  people  have  but  to  oi)en  their  eyes  to  behold  the 
cheering  vision." 

I  may  now  go  further  and  lind  an  analogy  between  the 
vision  of  Jacob,  and  the  condition  of  the  believer  at  his  dy- 
ing hour.  He  then  lies  down,  after  the  weary  day's  jour- 
ney of  life  is  over.  His  bed  is  a  hard  one,  a  comfortless 
one  in  the  eye  of  nature;  for  nature  does  not  love  to  die. 
And  there  are  anxious  dreams,  which  are  apt  to  trouble  the 
soul  ot  one  just  sinking  into  this  last  repose  ;  dreams  of  du- 
ties left  undone,  and  sins  committed  at  every  step  of  his 
journey,  dreams  of  what  shall  be  for  the  loved  ones  to  be 
left  on  earth,  and  dreams  of  what  shall  be  for  himself,  in 
the  dread  eternity  before  him.      But,   behold,    upon  the  very 


Jacob's  ladder.  67 

o;rave,  Gotl  shows  the  hxdder  resting  its  foot  ;  and  its  out- 
line rises  through  tlie  gloom,  u  clear  bright  pathway  to  the 
skies  ;  :uk1  the  angels  are  there  to  meet  the  departing  spirit 
and  lead  it  i\[>  triumphant  to  the  heavenly  mansions  The 
dying  believer  rests  upon  Christ,  according  to  the  covenant, 
and  sees  God  reconciled.  Sin  he  has,  but  the  blood  of 
Christ  cleanses  from  all  sin.  The  law  would  condemn  him, 
but  Christ  has  died  to  satisfy  the  law.  He  must  wander 
from  his  home  in  the  body,  but  to  be  absent  from  the  body 
is  to  be  present  with  the  Lord.  His  flesh  must  go  down  to 
the  tomb,  but  Christ  is  the  resurrection  and  the  life,  and 
of  the  very  dust  which  entombs  him.  God  seems  to  say,  as 
he  did  of  the  soil  upon  which  Jacob  slept  "the  land  where- 
on thou  liest,  to  thee  will  I  give  it,"  for  the  grave  belongs 
to  the  saint,  whose  body  it  must  keep  for  the  hour  of  res- 
titution,  rather  than  he  to  it. 

But  still  another  analogy  it  may  be  useful  to  notice,  is 
one  which  may  be  traced  between  the  case  of  Jacob  and 
that  of  any  sincere  devoted  philanthropic  labor  in  the  work 
of  rescuing  the  world  from  the  dominion  of  error  and  sin. 
I  might  instance  particularly  the  case  of  the  missionary, 
who  goes  out,  literally  from  home  into  the  desolate  wastes 
of  the  earth  ;  and  most  generally  perhaps  closes  his  daily 
toil  with  a  heavy  heart,  and  lies  down  to  dream  of  scenes 
of  wickedness  around  him,  and  of  his  own  batHed  ett'orts  to 
draw  the  heathen  to  the  feet  of  Christ.  But  we  need  not 
particularize.  As  I  have  said,  any  true  hearted,  earnest, 
devoted  laborer  for  the  cause  of  Christ  and  of  human  sal- 
vation will  furnish  the  analogy  to  the  case  of  Jacob  which 
I  wish  to  point  out.  It  is  a  long  and  weary  way,  that 
such  a  person  is  called  to  travel.  Day  by  day,  he  must 
tread  the  path  of  self-denial  ;  and  disappointed  hopes,  and 
unrequited  toil,  must  spread  his  painful  couch  at  night. 
His  heart,   too,    is  full  of  dreams,   and    they    are    sad    ones. 


68  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

They  are  occupied  with  reflections  upon  his  own  weaknesses 
and  infirmities,  upon  the  gigantic  wickedness  that  prevails  in 
the  world;'  upon  the  injustice  and  ingratitude  of  those  whom 
his  heart  yearns  to  bless  and  save  ;  upon  the  countless  ob- 
stacles that  oppose  the  spread  of  the  Gospel  ,  upon  the  lit- 
tle impression  that  the  truth  seems  to  make  in  the  world, 
and  upon  the  boldness  and  confidence  of  the  enemies  of 
Christ  ;  and  his  spirit  almost  sinks  within  him  ;  and  he 
would  fain  fly  from  the  field  and  desert  the  hopeless  war- 
fare. But  in  the  midst  of  these  dreams,  behold,  God  shows 
him  the  ladder,  and  the  angels  ascending  and  descending 
upon  it.  That  is  the  symbol  of  the  covenant,  which  de- 
clares that  the  world  for  which  Christ  died  belongs  to  him, 
and  shall  be  given  to  him  ;  and  it  cheers  the  despondent 
dreamer  like  a  charm.  It  repeats  to  him  the  words  of 
promise,  "in  thee  and  thy  seed,  shall  all  the  families  of 
the  world  be  blessed,"  and  ''thou  shall  spread  abroad  to 
the  west  and  to  the  east  and  to  the  north  and  to  the 
south."  It  shows  him,  too,  that  Divine  resources  are  en- 
listed in  the  cause  he  is  laboring  to  promote,  that  it  is  not 
in  his  own  strength  that  he  labors,  but  that  Christ  has  said 
"I  am  with  you  to  the  end  of  the  world  ;"  and  angelic  war- 
riors are  his  allies  and  supporters.  He  sees  heaven  plant- 
ing its  ladder  upon  the  apostate  earth  in  token  of  possession 
and  the  vision  reassures  his  faith,  and  encourages  him  with 
fresh  ardor  to  rise  from  his  dreams  and  finish  the  work  his 
master  has  given  him  to    do. 

And  finally  let  me  say,  in  a  general  way,  as  a  truth 
which  concerns  us  all,  that  life  itself  is  a  dream.  Viewed 
in  reference  to  the  things  which  occupy  it  here,  it  is  fitly 
called  a  dream.  How  often  we  look  back  upon  the  past, 
and  say  of  its  varied  scenes  and  events,  they  seem  to  us  a 
dream.  And  years  hence,  if  we  live  so  long,  and  if  we 
have  lived  only  for  this  world,    we  shall    have    to    say   from 


Jacob's  ladder.  69 

our  dying  bed,  "life  has  been  but  a  dream."  Its  joys  have 
come  and  gone,  and  tiiey  are  now  nothing  more  to  us  than 
the  joys  of  a  dream.  Wealth,  genius,  beauty,  the  triumphs 
of  ambition,  the  pleasures  of  society,  the  struggles  for  of- 
fice and  power  ;  the  delights  of  home  ;  the  love  of  husband 
or  wife  ;  all,  all,  were  dreams.  And  having  so  lived  the 
life  of  a  dreamer,  we  must  begin  the  life  of  a  waking 
man  in  that  eternity  for  which  we  are  all  unprepared. 
Oh  what  a  vain  show  we  are  walkmg  in,  who  are  thus 
dreaming  awa}-  the  life  God  gave  us  for  a  real  use,  and  a 
real  end.  Let  the  vision  of  Jacob  remind  us  of  the  direc- 
tion this  life-dream  ought  to  take  in  order  to  conform  to 
the  will  of  God  in  giving  us  lite.  Behold  the  ladder, 
mounting  from  earth  to  heaven.  There  is  no  right  plan  of 
life,  dear  friends,  which  does  not  terminate  upon  that  ob- 
ject. God  and  all  pure  beings  are  calling  our  souls  upward. 
It  is  only  devils  and  the  passions  that  link  us  to  the  brutes, 
that  would  keep  them  groveling  here  upon  the  earth.  God 
bids  you  live  for  immortality  ;  live  so  that  you  can  always 
be  said,  like  Jacob,  to  be  encamped  at  the  gate  of  heaven  ! 
You  are  never  living  right,  till  the  vision  of  that  ladder, 
and  its  angels  has  become  as  familiar  to  you,  and  as  con- 
stant an  object  of  your  perception,  as  the  beating  of  your 
own  heart  ;  till,  in  other  words,  you  are  living  by  faith  up- 
on Jesus  Christ,  and  the  eternal  covenant  confirmed  in  him, 
and  living  so,  that  at  whatever  spot  the  death  slumbers 
may  overtake  you,  the  angel  of  the  covenant  may  be  there, 
and  the  ladder  all  set  ;  and  God  prepared  to  welcome  you 
to  the  glories  of  his  kingdom. 


THE  SYRO-PHOENICIAN  WOMAN, 

AUGUST  lil,  ISCl. 


"Then  Jesiis  ansvveied  and  said  unto  her:  'O  Avoman,  great 
IS  thy  faith.  Be  it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt.'  And  her  daugh- 
ter was  made  whole  from  that  very  hour." — Matthew  15  38. 


TII^]  narrative    of  this  Syro-TlKenician   woman's    interview 
with  our  Lord,   and  of  the  miracle  lo  whi«h  it  was  ia- 

troductory,  presents  us  with  a  phase  of  our  Savior's 
ministry,  entirely  unique;  and  records  some  incidents  which 
entitle  his   conduct  or   the   occasion,   to  particular   attention. 

Fir?t,  it  is  to  be  noticed  that  the  scene  of  action  was 
different  from  that  to  which  our  Lord's  labors  were  ordi- 
narily restricted.  For  the  first  and  only  time,  he  appears 
here  carrying  his  healing  office  into  the  domain  of  the 
Gentile  world.  He  had  been  for  some  time  traversing  the 
province  of  Galilee,  when,  without  assigning  any  reason  for 
the  movement,  the  history  tells  us,  he  departed  thence  into 
the  coast  or  borders  of  Tyre  and  Sidon.  This  took  him 
into  Phoenicia,  which  was  a  distinct  country  from  Palestine, 
but  like  it,  comprehended  within  the  larger  kingdom  of 
Syria.  When  the  Saviour,  therefore,  passed  into  the  bor- 
ders of  Phoenicia,  he  had  stepped  upon  Pagan  soil,  and 
had  put  himself  in  contact  with  an  accursed  heathen  race. 
This  was  a  digression  from  his  ordinary  course,  and  the 
only  one  of  the  kind  which  occurs  in  his  history.  There 
was  doubtless  a  reason  for  so  exceptional  a  procedure.  In 
a   work    so .  very    definite    as    that   which    our  Lord   came  to 

70 


THE    SYROI'IIffiNIClAN    WOMAN.  71 

perform  on  earth,  there  could  have  been  nothing  done  at 
random;  there  could  have  been  no  incoherencies,  or  casual- 
ties, such  ns  appear  in  the  lives  of  common  men.  The 
journe}'  into  Pha^nicia,  we  may  l)e  sure,  had  a  design  at 
the  bottom  of  it;  and  this  design,  we  may  conjecture,  to 
have  been  twofold.  First,  our  Saviour  wished  by  this  act 
to  give  an  illustrative  notice  of  the  ultimate  destination  of 
the  benefits  of  his  Messiahship  to  the  Gentile  nations. 
Whde  in  compliance  with  the  policy  of  the  Old  Dispensa- 
tion under  which  he  appeared  he  ncted  ordinarily  upon  the 
principle  that  "Salvation  was  of  the  Jews,"  and  confined 
his  ministr}'  to  the  chosen  seed,  he  saw  fit,  once  during  his 
earthly  sojourn,  to  make  a  display  of  his  saving  power 
within  the  domain  of  heathendom.  Pie  would  send  one  ra\' 
of  light  into  the  realms  of  darkness,  to  show  that  the  lioht 
could  penetrate  even  that  gloomy  region,  and  that  the 
scope  of  redemption  was  only  temporarily  confined  to  the 
limits  of  the  literal  Israel.  Before  he  left  the  world,  he 
would  make  one  visit  of  mercy  into  the  territory  that  had 
a{)parently  been  abandoned  to  Satan,  to  give  token  of  the 
coming  overthrow  of  his  empire.  He  would  make  one 
breach  in  the  wall  of  partition  between  the  circumcision  and 
uncircumcision  as  an  earnest  of  the  total  demolition  of  that 
wall,  which  was  to  be  effected  through  the  Gospel.  He 
would  for  a  single  moment  open  the  dungeon-door  of  the 
fettered  bondsman,  and  send  through  his  long  palsied  heart 
the  thrill  of  the  hope  of  liberty. 

In  this  view  of  it  this  excursion  into  Phcencia  was  an 
act  of  magnificent  import. 

But  beyond  this  general  design,  I  supi)ose,  there  wag 
another  object  of  a  more  private  kind  contemplated  by  the 
Saviour  in  this  excursion.  There  wns  a  poor,  wandering 
sheep,  there  in  the  mountams,  whom  the  good  Shepherd 
was  eager  to  save.     There  was  a  soul  there  who    had  been, 


72  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

in  a  measure,  prepared  by  the  providence  of  God  to  ac- 
knowledge liim  as  the  Messiah,  whom  he  would  seek  and 
lead  into  his  fold.  It  looks  to  us  like  an  accident  that  he 
and  the  Canaanitish  woman  were  brought  together,  but  I 
do  not  believe  there  was  any  accident  about  it.  Her  con- 
dition was  known  to  Jesus  before  he  started  from  Galilee; 
and  he  made  the  long  journey  (for  the  journey  was  a  long 
one)  that  he  might  minister  to  her  necessities.  Slie  had  a 
heavy  grief  upon  her  heart  in  the  miserable  calamity  which 
had  befallen  her  daughter;  and  this  he  proposed  to  relieve. 
But  I  imagine  this  was  only  a  subordinate  object  with  our 
Saviour.  The  mother  herself,  was  to  be  made  a  miracle  of 
grace — to  be  translated  from  the  kingdom  of  Satan  into  the 
kingdom  of  God.  The  state  of  mind  which  she  evinced 
when  she  came  to  Christ,  1  think,  indicates  that  she  was 
prepared  to  be  the  subject  of  such  a  process;  and  the 
whole  procedure  of  Christ  towards  her,  1  regard,  as  hav- 
ing been  determiued  by  his  view  of  her  spiritual  condition, 
and  his  knowledge  of  the  treatment  which  was  necessary 
to  consummate  her  conversion;  and  it  is,  certainly,  a  con- 
clusion which  the  mind  can  hardly  refrain  from  adopting, 
after  witnessing  such  an  interview,  that  this  woman  ever 
after,  must  have  been  a  devout  and  sincere  believer  in 
Jesus.  We  cannot  doubt  that  when  the  Saviour  returned 
from  the  coasts  of  Tyre  and  Sidon,  there  had  been  a  new 
name  recorded  on  the  roll  of  the  heirs  of  glory.  And 
this  view  of  it,  gives  to  the  affair  of  his  excursion  into 
Pluienicia  a  significance  hardly  less  imposing,  than  that  con- 
tained in  the  former  view  of  it.  The  grace  that  could  de- 
scend so  far,  in  order  to  deliver  a  single  soul  from  sin  and 
hell,  appears  in  a  form  hardly  less  grand,  and  if  possible, 
even  more  tender  than  when  it  disclosed  itself  as  embrac- 
ing the  Gentile  as  well  as  the  Jewish  nations  in  the  scope 
of  its  merciful  purpose.     I   do   not   know   that   our   blessed 


THE    SYRO-l'Il(ENlClAN    WOMAN.  73 

Lord  ever  made  a  more  affecting  exhibition  of  his  benevolence 
— ever  threw  out  into  bohler  relief  the  Divine  attribute  of 
Love  which  was  the  animating  element  of  his  character, 
than  just  here,  in  this  incident,  in  the  light  in  which  I 
have  now  been  contemplating  it. 

And  now,  a  second  feature  to  be  noticed  in  this  nar- 
rative, is  the  manner  of  our  Saviour's  action  in  his  inter- 
view with  the  Canaanitish  woman.  For  once  his  customary 
benignity  seems  to  forsake  him.  (3n  no  other  occasion  did 
the  sufferer  fail  to  meet  with  a  kind  reception  at  his  hands. 
Here,  and  only  here,  he  appears  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the 
cry  of  distress,  closing  his  heart  against  the  eloquence  of 
tears,  and  sharpening  rather  than  soothing  the  pangs  that 
wrung  a  torn  and  bleetliug  breast.  It  is  a  strange  position 
to  find  the  merciful  Jesus  in;  and  yet,  as  the  end  of  the 
transaction  demonstrated,  one  that  was  ejitirely  consistent 
with  the  spirit  he  came  to  express,  and  the  ends  he  habit- 
ually consulted  in  his  ministr}-. 

To  see  this  .we  must  look  a  little  in  detail  at  the  facts 
of  the  case.  Upon  our  Lord's  arrival  within  the  borders  of 
Tyre  and  Sidon,  a  woman  (hastening  from  the  interior  of 
the  country,  probably,)  presented  herself  before  him.  You 
have  already  heard  who  this  woman  was  as  to  national 
character;  she  was  a  native  of  the  country— a  heathen, 
therefore,  and  most  likely,  had  been  an  idolatress;  one  who 
had  not  onl}'  denied  the  God  of  Israel,  but  had  worshipped 
false  gods.  But  she  had  a  woman's  heart;  and  under  the 
arrangement  of  Providence,  she  had  been  made  to  feel  in 
the  keenest  form  the  bitterest  anguish  of  a  woman's  heart 
— the  pain  of  witnessing  incurable  suffering  in  a  beloved 
child.  Her  daughter  (Mark  tells  us  she  was  young,)  was 
"grievously  vexed  with  a  devil."  Probably  no  Avorse  alllic- 
tion  could  have  befallen  her.  The  nature  of  the  disorder 
so  often  spoken  of    in  the  New  Testament   as   a  demoniacal 


74  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

possession,  is  inexplicable  by  us.  No  such  phenomenon  is 
witnessed  in  our  day,  at  least  in  the  degree  in  which  it 
was  witnessed  in  our  Saviour's  day.  It  seems  to  have  been 
a  species  of  SataniL^  agency  which  was  allowed  l)y  God  to 
take  its  place  amongst  the  ills  to  which  humanity  was  lia- 
ble, at  the  precise  period  of  Christ's  sojourn  on  earth,  as  a 
special  index,  both  of  the  malignity  with  which  the  seed 
of  the  "serpent"  was  disposed  to  persecute  the  fallen  race 
of  man,  and  of  the  triumphant  power  with  which  Christ, 
the  "seed  of  the  woman"  was  armed  in  order  to  defeat 
iiim.  The  allusions  to  it  in  the  Scriptures,  show  clearly 
the  presence  and  agency  in  the  subject  of  it,  of  a  per- 
sonal tormentor.  Body  and  mind  were  both  subjected  to 
the  evil  power.  The  suti'erer  was  more  than  a  sick  man ; 
he  was  a  man  tortured  by  a  fiend — harassed  by  the  cruel 
arts  of  an  irresistible  enemy,  always  present  with  him.  Of 
course,  medicine  could  do  no  good  in  such  a  case.  The 
cause  lay  above  the  range  of  human  science  and  skill,  in 
the  regions  of  superhuman  essences  and  infl^-iences.  Enough 
may  be  conceived,  therefore,  of  the  condition  of  the  de- 
moniac girl  to  enable  us  to  comprehend  something  of  her 
own  misery,  and  something  of  the  despair  and  woe  of  the 
helpless  mother. 

And  now,  she  hears,  through  the  rumors  probably, 
which  were  blown  around  and  in  advance  of  him,  that  Jesus 
had  crossed  from  Galilee  into  the  borders  of  Phamicia.  She 
had  heard  of  him  before;  her  conduct  shows  this.  Indeed, 
his  fame  had  spread  everywhere,  and  accordingly  he  never 
went  anywhere  without  being  besieged  immediately  by  a 
crowd  of  supplicants,  asking  for  themselves  or  their  friends, 
some  exercise  of  his  miraculous  powers.  The  woman  of 
Canaan  seems  to  have  informed  herself  pretty  accurately 
concerning  his  claims,  and  the  objects  of  his  mission.  It 
would  even  appear  that  she    recognized  him  as  the  Messiah 


THE    SYR0-1M1(ENICIAN    WOMAN.  75 

vvlioui  Ihe  Jews  li:i(l  lono;  liecn  expecting,  and  tliat  lier  idea 
as  to  who  and  what  the  Messiah  was,  was  to  a  great  de- 
gree, correct.  This  accounts  for  the  propriety  of  the  title 
which  slie  applied  to  him:  -'0  Jjord,  thou  Son  of  David." 
These  terms  were  derived  from  the  prophecies  of  the  Jew- 
isii  Scriptures;  and  when  applied  to  Jesus,  they  expressed 
the  conviction,  on  the  part  of  the  person  using  them,  that 
he  was  all  that  ttiese  terms  used  by  the  prophets  indicated. 
Ill  other  words,  he  was  tlie  Messiah  of  God.  Who,  and 
what  this  Mcs.siaii  was,  wns  a  question  which  was  answered 
with  greater  or  less  accuracy  by  different  indivichials. 
Some,  in  their  conception  of  him,  doubtless  entertained  the 
complete  truth;  others  rose  only  i)art  of  the  way  towards  a 
perfect  conception  of  his  character.  Some  regarded  him  as 
the  "Son  ot  God,"  in  the  sense  of  a  divine  being,  and  as 
a  redeemer,  in  the  sense  of  a  deliverer  from  the  dominion 
of  sin  and  Satan.  Others  looked  upon  him  as  a  prophet  or 
messenger  from  God,  commissioned  to  make  an  important 
moral  and  religious  revolution  in  the  Jewish  State.  Others 
anticipated  in  him  a  j)olitical  reformer,  and  supposed  that 
his  work  would  be  to  emancipate  his  people  from  the  joke 
of  foreign  bondage,  and  establish  in  its  ancient  glory  the 
throne  of  David.  What  the  precise  views  of  this  Gentile 
woman  were,  we  cannot  tell,  but  I  am  disposed  to  believe, 
as  I  have  said  before,  they  were  to  a  great  degree  correct. 
Whatever  they  were,  they  brought  her  to  the  Saviour  with 
a  desire  so  intense,  and  a  confidence  so  strong,  that  the 
possibility  of  a  failure  in  her  suit,  does  not  seem  to  have 
been  admitted  by  her  mind.  With  an  interest  in  her  er- 
rand, which  amounted  to  a  passion,  she  throws  herself  at 
his  feet,  crying  out  in  tones  which  we  maj-  well  imagine 
might  have  melted  a  heart  of  stone,  '-have  mercy  on  me, 
O  Lord,  thou  Son  of  David!  My  daughter  is  grievously 
vexed  with  a  devil. "     There  were  a  hundred  arguments  con- 


7t)  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

tained  in  this  short  appeal.  To  tlie  mind  of  the  speaker 
they  were  irresistible.  She  could  not  doubt  the  answer 
wliich  would  be  returned  to  them.  She  watched  for  the 
lips  to  move  in  response.  She  panted  for  the  gracious 
words  which  should  assure  her  that  her  daughter  was  healed. 
But,  strange  to  say,  the  countenance  of  Jesus  remained  as 
rigid  as  iron.  The  lips  were  sealed;  "he  answered  her  not 
a  word.  "  She  waited — moments  which  are  like  ages;  but 
no  cheering  tones  greet  her  ear.  There  is  mercy  in  the 
face,  there  is  strength  in  the  arm;  are  they  not  forth- 
coming for  her  relief?  Possibly  her  cry  has  been  misunder- 
stood. She  repeats  it.  She  follows  Jesus  as  he  walks, 
with  her  imi)ortunity,  till  his  disciples,  at  last,  with  their 
sympathies  wrought  to  the  highest  pitch,  interpose,  and 
veutnrc  lo  join  their  entreaties  to  hers.  "Send  her  awa}*," 
they  say,  "for  she  crieth  after  us!"  That  is,  "grant  her 
request,  and  relieve  her  distress,  and  let  her  cease  to  pur- 
sue us,    with   these  heart-rending  appeals!" 

And  now  the  lips  open.  Jesus  speaks;  but  it  is  only 
to  discourage  still  more  the  poor  mother's  hope.  "I  am 
not  sent,"  iie  says,  "but  to  the  lost  sheep  of  the  house  of 
Israel;"  as  much  as  to  say,  "my  commission  gives  this 
stranger  no  claim  to  the  benefit  of  my  miraculous  power. 
She  is  not  a  daughter  of  Abraham.  She  has  no  part  in 
the  covenant  of  promise.  The  testimony  of  my  Messiahship 
is  to  be  laid  before  the  Jew,  not  the  Gentile!"  The  woman 
heard  these  words — saw  the  barrier  they  seemed  to  throw 
in  tlie  way  of  her  object;  but  the  heart,  quickened  by  ma- 
ternal love,  may  have  suggested  to  her  mind  a  thought  that 
still  kept  her  from  despair.  "He  is  .sent  to  the  lost  sheep 
of  the  house  of  Israel."  But  has  he  not  all  power  as  the 
son  of  God?  May  he  not  in  virtue  of  his  own  prerogative 
still  decree  to  work  this  act  ot  mercy?  If  not  as  the  mes- 
senger to   the  house  of  Israel,   still   as  the  incarnate    Deity, 


THE    SYRO-PII(ENICIAN    WOMAN.  77 

may  he  uot,  cau  he  not  iu  sovereign  clemency  grant  to  a 
suffering  creature  this  little  boon?  Aud  so  she  prosecutes 
her  suit;  she  offers  no  such  argument  as  this  to  Jesus, 
but  in  the  strength  which  it  administered  to  her  own  soul, 
she  comes  to  him  again  and  "worships  him" — that  is  pros- 
trates lierself  before  him — saying,  "Lord  help  me!"  But 
still  in  vaiii!  llis  look  is  still  c(jld — cold  as  ice.  There  is 
another  heart-crushing  uiessnge  evidently  on  his  tongue. 
And  now  it  comes.  Turning  to  her  as  she  lay  at  his  feet, 
with  h,er  eager  eye  fixed  upon  him,  he  says:  "It  is  not 
meet  to  take  the  children's  bread,  and  to  cast  it  to 
dogs."  Harsh  words,  these,  to  come  from  those  lips!  to  be 
spoken  by  any  lips!  and  in  the  presence  of  sorrow  so 
sacred  as  that  of  a  mother  pleading  for  a  suffeiing  child! 
They  seem  to  us  to  carry  a  tone  of  insult  vvitli  them,  as  if 
the  Saviour  were  adding  reproach  to  his  refusal  of  aid. 
Severely  painful  the  words  were  undoubtedly,  and  designed- 
ly humiliating;  and  yet  not  insulting — not  contemptuous. 
I  cannot  so  understand  any  words  that  Jesus  would  speak. 
He  only  means  to  remind  the  woman  again,  that  as  a  Gen- 
tile, her  case  was  not  contemplated  in  his  mission  in  its 
present  stage,  and  that,  therefore,  the  benefits  he  had  to 
dispense,  belonged  to  the  "children,"  the  Jews,  and  not  to 
her  alien  race.  The  term,  "dogs,"  has  to  our  ears  an  of- 
fensive sound,  to  which  it  probably  is  not  entitled.  In  the 
original  it  is  a  diminutive,  which  may  imply  insignificance 
or  unworthiuess,  but,  I  think,  not  contemptibleness.  It 
means  literally,  "little  dogs;"  and  seems  to  refer  to  these 
animals  as  attached  to  the  family,  so  that,  while  the  chil- 
dren sit  at  the  table,  they  are  permitted  to  come  under  it. 
Their  position  is  one  of  inferiority;  and  though  their  wants 
demand  attention,  it  is  meet  that  the  children  should  be 
provided  for  first,  and  that  the  food  which  is  intended  for 
the  sustenance  of    their  children,   should  not  be  taken  from 


78  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

them  to  be  wasted  upon  mere  brutes.  In  this  view  of  his 
language,  the  Saviour,  without  insulting  her,  seems  to  have 
merely  designed  to  represent  to  the  woman  in  a  stronger 
way,  perhaps,  than  he  had  done  before,  the  absence  of  all 
ground  upon  which  she  could  chiim  the  favor  she  asked. 
Still,  what  a  disheartening  view  of  her  forlorn  condition  it 
must  have  given  her!  She  saw  tbe  ehiklren's  portion,  and 
yet  was  forbidden  to  partake  of  it.  With  wants  as  keen  as 
hers,  and  the  means  of  relief  m  sight,  she  must  lie,  as  it 
were,  like  the  dogs  under  the  table,  and  ask  no  share  in  the 
provision  upon  it  Attainted  heathen — unclean  idolatress 
that  she  was,  what  right  had  she  to  expect  that  the  mer- 
cies granted  to  God's  covenanted  people  should  be  diverted 
from  their  use  to  gratify  her?  And  yet,  dog  though  she 
seemed  in  her  place  in  the  household  of  God,  she  could 
ask  a  dog's  portion,  'for,  -in  their  place,  the  dogs  even 
were  not  overlooked  in  the  disbursements  of  the  household- 
er. She  takes  the  place  assigned  her,  and  there,  from  that 
lowliest  of  all  lowly  attitudes,  she  makes  another  appeal  to 
the  Saviour.  "Truth  Lord,"  she  sa^^s,  "yet  the  dogs  eat 
of  the  crumbs  which  fall  from  the  master's  table,"  as 
if  she  had  said,  "I  admit  it!  I  cannot  ask  the  children's 
bread.  I  am  but  a  dog  in  comparison  with  them;  it  is  not 
meet  that  I  should  intrude  into  their  place,  or  claim  their 
privilege;  but  a  dog's  l)Oon  may  1  not  claim?  In  the  over- 
flowing bounty  of  God  towards  Israel,  manifested  in  the  gift 
of  his  sou  for  their  redemption,  is  there  not  a  crumb  which 
can  be  spared  for  a  poor  Gentile  woman,  groaning  under 
the  pressure  of  Satan's  power?"  This  was  enough.  Nothing 
more,  apparently,  could  be  asked;  no  further  proof  of  the 
existence  in  the  woman  of  the  spirit  which  Jesus  loves  to 
bless  could  be  given.  And  now,  with  that  look  of  kindness 
on  his  countenance  which  had  been  so  strangely  absent  be- 
fore,   he  answered  and    said     to    her:      "0  woman,    great    is 


THE    SYRO-PHCENICIAN    WOMAN,  79 

thy  faith!  Be  it  uulo  thee,  even  as  thou  wilt!'  And  her 
daughter  was   made  whole  from   that  very   hour. 

The  event  of  course  att'ords  the  solution  of  this  very 
extraordinary  course  of  treatment  which  our  Lord  had  pur- 
sued towards  this  Canaanitish  woman.  There  had  not  been 
from  the  fiist  any  lack  of  sensibility  or  kindly  sympathy  in 
his  heart;  he  had  not  been  cold  or  cruel,  nor  had  he  trifled 
idly  with  her  feelings,  nor  practiced  artifice  in  his  deport- 
ment towards  her.  He  had  acted  as  a  wise  physician,  who 
knew  his  patient's  case,  and  who  had  intelligently  and  seri- 
ously adjusted  his  remedies  to  the  attainment  of  all  the 
ends  embraced  in  a  thorough  cure  of  it.  It  was  necessary,  no 
doubt,  for  her  own  good,  as  her  case  was  apprehended  by 
Jesus,  that  she  should  be  subjected  to  precisely  this  course 
of  trial.  Every  pang  that  she  underwent,  every  emotion  in 
the  complicated  tissue  of  feeling  in  which  her  heart  was 
involved,  every  struggling  step'  downward  in  the  way  of 
humiliation,  or  upward  in  the  way  of  faith,  was  needed,  in 
order  that  the  healing  of  her  daughter  should  possess  its 
full  value  in  her  eyes,  and  that  other  and  perhaps  greater 
objects  to  be  effected  in  connection  with  this,  should  be 
successfully  achieved. 

And  then  there  were  uses  to  be  subserved  by  her  case 
which  had  rpspect  to  the  church  of  Christ  at  large.  The 
Saviour  was  preparing  the  statute  book  and  the  directory  of 
his  people  in  all  he  did  when  he  was  upon  earth.  He 
meant  this  incident  witli  the  Canaanitish  woman  to  fill  a 
place  in  the  scriptures  which  could  not  have  been  filled  by 
any  incident  occurring  under  other  circumstances.  The 
whole  transaction  happened  for  your  benefit,  my  brethren, 
no  less  than  for  the  family  immediately  concerned;  and  it 
was  recorded  in  the  Gospel  for  the  instruction  and  encour- 
agement of  the  tried  and  tempted  believer,  and  the  peni- 
tent   sinner  in  all    generations.      We    may    well    thank    God, 


80  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

all  of  us,  I  am  sure,  that  it  pleased  the  Lord  Jesus  thus 
to  go  from  Galilee  into  the  coasts  of  Tyre  aud  Sidon,  and 
there  under  such  peculiar  conditions  exercise  his  healing 
power  upon  a  Canaanitish  woman's  daughter.  Let  me 
devote  the  remainder  of  my  time  to  an  exposition  of  the 
way  in  which  the  trutlis  illustrated  by  this  incident  may  he 
applied  to  the  cases  of  men  generally. 

For  instance,  has  it  never  seemed  to  you  as  if  God  were 
dealing  with  you  very  much  as  the  Saviour  dealt  with  this 
woman?  Has  he  never  seemed  to  wear  an  averted  face 
when  you  have  gone  to  him  in  the  expectation  of  obtaining 
some  blessing?  Is  it  not  true  that  God  sometimes  appears 
to  you  a  different  God  from  what  you  expected  to  find 
him?  Does  not  his  policy  in  certain  junctures  disappoint 
3'ou,  and  sorely  put  your  faith  to  tlie  test?  Li  your  private 
experience  is  not  the  course  of  his  providential  and  spiritual 
operations,  in  some  particulars,  quite  the  reverse  of  what 
you  had  been  led  to  expect?  And  in  the  history  of  the 
church  is  there  not  often  a  strange  holding  back  of  the 
Saviour's  hand  in  cases  where  you  had  confidently  expected 
to  see  it  put  forth?  Have  you  not  sometimes,  when  you 
have  gone  to  Christ  with  a  burden  on  your  heart  like  this 
woman's,  and  with  a  confidence  in  his  willingness  to  relieve 
it,  like  hers,  been  met  apparently  with  the  same  coldness, 
reluctance  and  severity  which  she  encountered?  I  know  it  is 
so.  I  suppose  it  was  to  prepare  you  for  the  temptations  and 
difficulties  of  just  such  an  exigency  that  this  woman's  sfory 
has  been  preserved  in  the  scriptures;  and  I  would  say  to 
you,  whenever  events  under  God's  governmment  are  not 
turning  out  as  you  had  hoped  and  expected,  whenever 
labour  fails  to  effect  its  anticipated  issue,  or  prayer  to  re- 
ceive its  appointed  reward,  rcmeml)er  the  Saviour's  dealings 
with  the  Canaanitish  woman,  liemember  first  that  God  has 
thus  forewarned   you  that  occasions    may  arise  in  which    he 


THE    SYRO-PIKENICIAN    WOMAN.  81 

sliall  see  fit  lo  repulse  his  people,  to  contend  with  thein, 
and  to  throw  discouragement  upon  their  spirits.  The  mere 
occurrence  of  such  occasions  is  not  to  be  considered  a  phe- 
nomenon at  variance  with  his  character  or  policy.  It  is  one 
for  whicli  a  precedent  may  l)c  found  here  in  his  own  word. 
Our  God  is  the  God  of  the  Bible.  As  such  our  faith  ac- 
knowledges him  and  conlitles  in  him;  and  our  faith  must  ac- 
knowledge him  and  confide  in  him  just  so  far  as  the  Bible 
teaches  u.s  to  do  so.  Now  the  Bible  shows  us  this,  God 
sometimes  maintaining  an  attitude  of  reserve,  and  assuming 
an  air  of  harshness  in  his  treatment  of  his  children.  It  shov/s 
us  this  in  the  case  of  the  woman  before  us.  It  shows  us 
the  same  in  the  absence  and  tardiness  of  Jesus  when  his 
friend  Lazarus  was  sick.  It  shows  the  same  where  Abra- 
ham was  suddenly  required  to  sacrifice  his  son  Isaac.  Tem- 
porary or  apparent  severity  is  a  thing  which  may  occur  in 
the  dealings  of  God  with  us.  We  must  not  be  confounded, 
nor  driven  to  unbelief  when  it  does  occur.  Jesus  had  not 
changed  his  character,  though  his  manner  towards  this  poor 
Gentile  was  so  disheartening.  He  never  does  change  his 
character.  He  may  exhdjit  it  under  forms  which  are  at 
times  inexplicable  to  us,  but  the  seeming  digression  will  in 
the  end  infallibly  be  found  to  be  in  harmony  with  the  law 
of  his  life,  and  the  economy  of  his  kingdom.  The  Canaan- 
itish  woman  would  not  be  convinced  that  Jesus  was  not 
the  Jesus  of  whom  she  had  heard.  Her  heart  had  emljraced 
the  contrary  conviction  too  deeply  for  an3'thing  U)  shake  it. 
Such  confidence  in  him  we  ought  all  to  entertain;  and  after 
her  example  and  the  encouragement  contained  in  her  story 
there  ought  to  be  no  great  difficult}'  in  any  circumstances 
iu  entertaining  it. 

Then  again,  remember  that  such  painful  procedures  on 
the  part  of  God  may  inclose  within  themselves  all  the 
while  a  purpose    to  do    you    the   good  you    seek.      You  may 


82  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

seem  to  be  thrust  back  iigain  and  again,  while  really  the 
design  of  the  hand  that  strikes  you  is  to  bring  you  nigh 
and  embrace  you.  Delay  in  granting  a  boon,  though  it 
may  be  attended  with  aggravations  which  almost  break  the 
heart  and  (quench  hope,  is  nevertheless  no  certain  proof  of 
an  adverse  determination  in  God.  Think  of  this  poor 
heathen  mother,  ye  mothers,  ye  parents,  who  have  been 
long  calling  apparently  upon  a  deaf  ear,  and  clamoring  at 
a  closed  gate  in  jour  prayers  for  your  otispring!  Abraham 
even  under  the  knife  had  his  sou  restored  to  him.  Martha 
and  Mary,  even  from  the  grave,  had  their  brother  returned 
to  their  arms.  Tiiis  woman,  even  after  Jesus  himself  had 
seemed  to  rear  a  triple  wall  between  her  and  her  hope, 
gained  the  precious  answer — "be  it  unto  thee  as  thou  wilt!" 
Remember  again,  when  Jesus  hesitates  thus  with  you, 
shuts  the  door  thus  upon  your  application,  it  is  an  indica- 
tion to  you  probably  that  there  are  arguments  rec^uired  by 
him  at  your  hands.  There  is  a  way  in  which  your  case 
must  be  set  before  him,  before  he  can  permit  it  to  prevail. 
His  silence,  his  immobilit}'  may  be  pregnant  with  suggestions 
and  reflections  upon  yourself,  and  may  be  meant  to  drive 
you  to  deep  and  honest  self-examin;ition,  to  see  whether 
there  may  not  be  some  condition  to  the  answering  of  your 
prayer  yet  unfulfilled  by  you;  or  some  "accursed  thing" 
from  which  God's  blessing  is  necessarily  repelled,  cherished 
by  you.  Christ  may  be  conferring  with  you,  as  an  inquisi- 
tor, in  these  bitter  moments  of  suspense,  in  order  to  lead 
you  to  know  yourself,  and  to  acknowledge  your  delinquen- 
cies; to  repair  your  errors,  and  so  to  put  out  of  the  way 
things  which,  while  they  remain,  prevent  the  access  of  his 
mercy.  The  woman's  argument  had  reference,  we  should 
say,  to  misfortunes  rather  than  faults;  but  you  may  have 
to  concern  yourself  about  faults  You  must  disprove  these, 
and  you  must  do  this  by  the  best  of  arguments,   a  reform- 


THE    SYRO-PIICENICIAN    WOMAN.  83 

ed  conduct.  You  must  level  the  mountains,  and  raise  the 
valleys,  and  puige  out  tlie  thorns  and  thistles,  and  so  in- 
vite the  approach  of  Christ  by  the  openness  and  the  integ- 
rity of  your  heart. 

Remember  again,  Jesus  giveth  grace  to  the  humble. 
And  what  a  lesson  upon  humility  does  the  conduct  of  this 
Gentile  mother  teach!  How  Christ  rings  the  changes,  so  to 
speak,  upon  her  ulter  want  of  merit,  and  right  to  claim  the 
benefit  she  sought!  How  he  probes  her  pride  and  self- 
esteem  to  the  quick!  And  yet  how  meekly  she  takes  it  all! 
Blast  after  blast  of  the  rude  hurricane  strikes  upon  the 
frail,  bending  willow,  and  lower  and  lower,  at  every  stroke, 
it  bows,  tdl  it  lies  at  last  prone  upon  the  earth.  She  con- 
sents to  rest  her  plea  upon  such  a  title  as  the  dog  under 
the  table  might  present  to  his  master.  She  sees  the  chil- 
dren's privileges  set  before  her  without  envy  or  complaint. 
She  asks  only  the  crumbs  which  are  scattered  from  their  su- 
perabundance. This  is  a  type,  not  an  exaggerated  one,  of 
the  spirit  and  posture  which  every  guilty  and  attainted 
child  of  Adam  ought  to  maintain  before  God.  Till  you 
come  to  have  such  humility  you  are  not  in  a  condition  to 
receive  the  largesses  of  heaven.  The  unfallen  angels  are  the 
children  feasting  at  the  table,  yonder  in  the  father's  house. 
Sinners  on  earth  are  but  the  dogs  under  it;  and  in  a  temper 
becoming  their  place  they  must  ask  for  the  blessing.  Jesus 
may  keep  them  fasting  till  they  are  thankful  for  crumbs; 
and  then  he  may  oi)en  to  them  stores  of  grace  transcending 
the  feast  of  angels. 

And  once  more,  remember,  that  God  requires  faith  in 
those  whom  he  receives.  Faith  will  be  evinced  by  the 
eatnestness  of  the  pursuit.  The  prayer  of  faith  must  be  an 
earnest  prayer;  it  will  grow  out  of  the  reality  of  a  want; 
and  the  magnitude  of  a  want.  Are  our  prayers  for  our 
children's  salvation,    i)rayers    of    faith  think    you?     Ah,    are 


84  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

they  like  the  poor  woman's  for  her  demoniac  daughter? 
Have  yon  ever  felt  as  she  did  for  the  demoniac  child  for 
whom  you  profess  to  pray  to  God?  Have  you  ever  exhib- 
ited such  earnestness  in  seeking  the  conversion  of  that 
worldly-minded  daughter,  or  that  protligate  son,  whom 
Satan  has  taken  captive?  Alas!  yon  have  not  faith;  you 
do  not  believe  in  the  danger  of  your  child;  you  do  not  see 
ils  misery  as  she  did,  and  you  do  not  believe  in  the  neces- 
sity and  the  availibility  of  Christ's  ollice  as  she  did;  and 
so  you  are  not  in  earnest  in  your  prayer;  and  Clirist  waits 
till  you  come  to  him  in  faith.  He  waits  to  make  you 
evince  your  faith  by  an  importunity  which  shall  tell  him 
that  the  necessity  is  desperate,  and  that  your  want  is  such, 
that  like  Jacob  wrestling  all  night  with  the  angel,  you  can- 
not—will not  let  him  go  except  he  bless  you.  Alas,  for 
us,  near  Christian  friends,  we  may  all  learn  a  lesson  from 
the  conduct  of  this  Syro-Pha?nician  woman,  and  get  a  re- 
buke from  her  too!  She  ganietl  her  daughter,  and  not  im- 
probably gained  eternal  life  at  the  same  time.  O  had  we 
more  of  her  sincerity  and  earnestness,  her  single-minded, 
practical  honesty  in  seeking  the  blessings  she  desired,  her 
humility  of  spirit,  her  faith  in  Jesus,  her  patience  and  im- 
portunity in  prayer,  I  cannot  doubt  that  more  frequently 
the  cold  look  that  now  seems  to  sit  upon  the  Saviour's  face 
would  relax  into  loving  smiles,  and  his  voice  bear  to  us  too 
the  joyful  message,    "be  it  unto  thee  even  as  thou  wilt." 


THE  LILY  OF  THE  FIELD. 

> 

MAY  2,  1852. 


"Consider  the  lilies  of  tiie  field,  how  they  grow,  they  toil 
not  neither  do  they  spin  :  And  yet  1  say  unto  you  tliat  even  Sol- 
omon in  all  his  glory  wa.'  not  arrayed  like  one  of  tliese."' — 
Mattukw.  0:28.29. 


THE  particuhxr  purpose  lor  which  the  Saviour  alludes  to 
the  lily  of  the  field,  in  the  cjise  before  us,  was  to 
make  men  recognize  the  beneficent  agency  of  God  as 
something  to  be  taken  into  account  and  depended  upon  Ijy 
them,  as  a  means  of  bodily  subsistence  and  support.  He 
holds  up  the  little  flower  before  them  as  a  witness,  and  in- 
terrogates it,  as  it  were,  of  the  source  of  its  vigorous  health 
and  fairy-like  comeliness.  And  the  answer  that  he  receives 
is,  that  there  is  an  intelligent  power  external  to  itself  which 
has  made  it  what  it  is.  It  did  not  toil  nor  spin.  By  no 
skill  or  industry  of  its  own,  it  wove  its  draper}'  of  white 
and  green.  But  God  clothed  it.  God  r.aised  its  graceful 
stem  from  the  soil,  and  hnng  over  its  queenly  form  a 
mantle  that  surpasses  the  apparel  of  Solomon  in  all  his  "lo- 
ry. Now,  the  Saviour's  argument  is,  that  a  power  which  is 
seen  expending  itself  in  such  a  way  and  td  such  a  degree 
in  the  case  of  a  flower,  ought  to  be  looked  to  and  trusted 
in  by  men,  as  a  source  from  which  they  too  may  expect 
even  greater  aid.  Allowing  for  ail  proper  difl'erences  be- 
tween the  man  and  the  plant,  the  fact  still  remains  as  true 
in  the  case  of  the  one  as  the  other,   that  God  can  exert  an 


86  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

agency  whicli  may  materially  assist  in  promoting  their  secu- 
rity and  well-being.  The  power  that  decks  the  lily  can  give 
food  and  raiment  to  man.  And  man  is  as  unreasonable,  as 
he  is  unkind  to  himself,  in  throwing  out  of  view  this  pow- 
er, when  he  is  estimating  the  means  upon  which  his  hope 
of  having  his  wants  supplied,  may  rcist.  His  expectation  of 
obtaining  aid  from  God  must,  of  course,  refognize  the  con- 
ditions of  his  nature,  as  a  being  possessed  of  animal  and 
rational  life.  The  plant  has  everthing  done  for  it,  we  may 
say,  by  its  beneficent  Creator.  Care,  and  forethought,  and 
labor  of  its  own,  are  out  of  the  question.  But  man  is  so 
constituted  that  he  can  do  much  for  himself.  He  can  ex- 
ercise intelligent  care  and  prudent  forethought,  and  skilltul 
labor  in  his  own  behalf;  and  it  is  only  in  the  exercise  of 
all  these  that  he  can  hope  for  aid  from  God.  But  all  these 
exercised  to  their  utmost,  do  not  alter  the  fact,  nor  his  in- 
terest in  the  fact,  that  there  is  a  power  external  to  him, 
which  is  able  to  give  him  aid.  The  power  that  clothes  the 
lilies  of  the  field,  is  still  pi-esented  to  him  as  another  agen- 
cy, adequate,  just  as  well,  to  supply  all  his  wants.  And 
shall  he  take  no  note  of  that  power  in  summing  up  and  col- 
lecting together  his  resources  ?  Because  he  can  do  much 
for  liimself,  shall  he  deny  that  God  can  do  anything  for 
him  ?  Shall  he  make  all  his  faith  and  hope  and  trust  ter- 
minate upon  himself,  and  act  as  if  he  had  no  need  of 
God's  aid,  while  his  own  faculties  can  act,  or  as  if  no  cases 
could  occur  in  which  God's  aid  could  serve  him,  when  his 
own  energies  had  proved  insufficient  ?  Shall  he  thus  make 
a  God  of  himself,  by  never  looking  out  of  himself,  or  high- 
er than  himself?  "Oh,  thou  of  little  faith,"  and  of  folly 
as  great  as  thy  faith  is  little,  to  see  this  wondrous  power 
all  around  thee  in  the  world,  and  beneficently  exercised  too, 
and  yet  refuse  to  betake  thyself  to  it  ?  To  see  God  cloth- 
ing the  grass  of  the  field  without    toiling    or    spinning,    and 


THE    LILY    OF    THE    FIELD.  87 

yet  refuse  Lo  beleive  that  He  can  and  will  aid  tliec  in  thy 
toiling  and  spinning  ?  Consider  the  lilies  how  they  grow  ; 
and  then  consider  whether  it  is  not  a  blind  and  thriftless 
policy  which  keeps  thee  ever  trusting  to  thine  own  arm  and 
never  to  the  power  which  makes  them  grow!  The  very 
shrubs  and  blossoms  which  thy  busy  feet  are  crushing  in 
their  restless  quest  of  the  things  thou  shalt  eat  and  drink 
and  put  on,  condemn  thee  for  thy  misspent  care  and  mis- 
directed trust.  This  useful  rebuke  of  man's  atheistical  for- 
gotfulness  of  God,  as  an  agent  able  and  willing  to  help 
him,  the  Saviour  draws  from  a  growing  flower.  Passing  on 
from  this  lesson,  I  would  find  in  the  some  object  a  type  of 
much  else  which  belongs  to  the  condition  and  history  of 
man. 

Nature  ought  to  l>c  scanned  far  more  than  it  is  by  the 
Christian,  with  the  eye  of  faith  which  can  see  in  things 
earthly,  patterns  of  things  heavenly.  The  visible  world  is  a 
book  of  parables  ;  and,  he  who  will  carry  with  him  the  key 
of  knowledge  which  Scripture  gives,  may  find  it  full  of  the 
mysteries  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  Its  forms  and  figures, 
as  has  been  beautifully  said,  are  "a  sacred  writing,"  the 
hieroglyphics  of  God;  and  the  evolutions  of  beaut}^  and 
grandeur  which  are  everywhere  occuring  in  it,  are  the  un- 
folding of  his  gloiy, — the  rolling  out  upon  the  temple  floor, 
or  the  skirts  of  his  train,  whose  person  sits  enthi'oned  in 
the  light  inaccessable  of  heaven.  As  God  is  one,  unity  is  to 
be  looked  for  in  his  works;  and,  consequently,  agreement  and 
likeness  in  all  his  different  revelations  of  himself.  And 
when,  therefore,  we  find  the  type  of  some  spiritual  truth 
presented  to  us,  in  a  fact  or  process  of  the  material  world 
we  have  presented  to  us  a  new  ground  for  confidence  in 
that  spiritual  truth.  The  analogies  between  nature  and  the 
doctrines  of  the  Scripture,  as  we  have  them  in  the  Bible, 
do  more,   therefore,   than  gratify  our  intellect,   or  please  our 


OO  A    PASTOR  S    VALEDICTOKY. 

fancy.  Tliey  minister  to  our  growth  in  grace,  and  in  the 
knowledge  of  our  Lord,  they  edify  us  '  in  our  most  holy 
faith;  tiiey  widen  and  deepen  the  foundation  of  our  reli- 
gion; they  elevaie  the  soul  by  di  closing  amidst  all  things, 
even  the  petty  and  familiar  things  of  life,  tlie  beautiful  and 
majestic  harmonies  of  God;  and  tluiy  lift  ns  by  the  ladder 
of  earthly  things  to  a  higher,  nearer  communication  with 
heaven. 

Let  us  question,  then,  the  lily  of  its  hidden  signifi- 
cance, and  see  what  intimations  of  higher  things  we  may 
find  in  the  whispers  of  the  grass  of  the  field.  And  this, 
not  with  tluit  vain  curiosity  which  hunts  for  surprising  co- 
incidences, or  that  more  poetic  taste  which  delights  in  the 
ai)tness  of  a  simile,  but  with  a  reverent  docility  that  seeks 
for  truth  everywhere,  and  rejoices  to  find  new  arguments  for 
its    heaven- taught    faith,     in   the  manifold   imagery  of  earth. 

The  growing  flower  is  the  product  of  a  seed,  buried 
darkly  in  the  soil.  The  beginning  of  all  this  diversified  ar- 
ray of  vegetable  beauty  which  now  a  lorns  your  gardens  , and 
all  this  wide  waving  garniture  of  green  which  now  covers 
your  hills  and  your  vallies,  was  a  germ  propelled  into  mo- 
tion under  ground.  Out  of  that  obscure  and  unsightly  bed 
it  has  arisen,  and  erected  itself  into  the  plant,  the  leaf,  and 
the  l>lossom.  But  in  this  growth,  when  we  come  to  trace  it 
through  its  successive  stages,  there  has  been  called  into  ac- 
tion a  complicated  system  of  laws,  and  a  wondrous  con- 
course of  forces.  The  various  kinds  of  operation,  the  immense 
exercise  of  power,  and  the  extensive  range  of  plan  and 
method,  which  are  employed  in  the  causing  of  the  germina- 
tion of  the  tiniest  plant,  is  a  matter  which  is  fitted  to  fill 
the  mind  with  amazement;  and  (did  not  the  fact  forbid  all 
doubt)  might  well  excite  the  incredulous  inquiry  "is  not 
this  a  delnsion  ?"  This  mighty  machinery  could  never  have 
been  constructed  for  such  a  result.      There    is    an    apparatus 


THE    LILV    op    TIIK    FIKI.D.  SO 

here  which  iniulit  hav*^  liecii  used  U)  fiainc  a  worhl.  Was 
it  all  directed  to  the  pioductioti  of  a  lily  ?  But  ju'>t  tiiis, 
and  all  tliis,  is  lu'vertheless  true;  and  scepticism  is  effcc- 
tiially  silenced  by  the  iineiiiiig  disclosures  of  science.  Out  of 
the  many  facts  which  these  have  developed,  let  me  instance 
one  or  two,  for  it  is  only  a  scattered  paragraph  or  two  out 
of  the  beautiful  history  of  vegetable  life,  which  the  occasion 
will  allow  me  to  give,  T  borrow  theui  from  "McCosh's  Di- 
vine rjovernment,  Physical  and  Moral."  Consider  this  then 
that  the  aiinu:il  revolution  of  the  earth  aI)out  the  sun  has 
l)een  arranged  so  :is  to  aid  the  growth  of  ever}-  little  flower 
that  is  lilooming  at  your  feet.  The  seed  as  it  lies  in  the 
soil  is  a  dull  inert  object,  which,  without  the  conjiinctio)i 
ol  certain  conditions,  has  no  more  power  to  change  than  a 
stone.  Heat  must  first  reach  it  in  its  hidden  bed,  and  heat 
in  just  the  right  propotion,  so  that  in  connection  with  the 
moisture  of  the  soil,  it  may  expand  and  soften  the  outer 
coats  of  the  grain,  and  so  prepare  the  way  for  the  chemical 
agents  which  are  to  quicken  and  nourish  the  embr\o  within. 
A  temperature  above  or  below  a  specific  point  wo»dd  defeat 
nil  vital  action.  Now  the  course  of  the  earth  around  the 
gun  has  been  adjusted  with  such  nice  reference  to  this  con- 
dition of  the  vegetable  economy  that  just  the  ray  of  the  re- 
quisite intensity  strikes  the  s[)ot,  where  the  seed  is  deposit- 
ed though  that  spot  has  been  determined  by  a  thing  so  fit- 
ful as  the  gust  of  wind,  or  the  flight  of  the  insect  l)y  which 
the  seed  was  borne  to  the  ground.  A  different  ray  would 
liave  failed  to  produce  the  efl'ect.  That  which  is  emitted  by 
a  Septem))er  sun,  for  instance,  would  strive  in  vain  to  wak- 
en into  life,  an  AjumI  flower.  The  earth  would  have  gone 
too  far  in  its  orl>it  for  the  condition  of  temperature  required 
by  such  a  flower,  to  be  fulfilled.  .  Tint  God  has  ordered 
the  mechanism  of  nature  so  that  no  such  irregularit}'  ever 
occurs.      The  right  ray  finds  the  right    seed.      The  revolving 


90  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

earth  brings  the  spot  where  it  lies,  into  a  position  where  it 
will  draw  from  the  great  centre  of  heat  just  the  measure  of 
warmth  that  it  needs.  And  still  further,  we  are  told,  that 
in  the  progress  of  the  seasons  there  is  a  peculiar  adaptation 
in  the  character  or  quality  of  the  sun's  rays,  to  the  wants 
of  the  vegetable  world.  The  kind  of  ray  that  suits  the 
plant  in  the  spring  will  not  perform  the  functions  that  it 
needs  in  summer,  nor  will  either  of  those  which  suited  it  in 
the  spring  and  summer,  perform  the  functions  that  it  needs 
in  the  autumn.  Accordingly,  the  ray  undergoes  a  change  in 
precise  accommodation  to  the  wants  of  the  plant.  At  the 
season  of  germination,  it  contain  in  a  predominant  de-- 
gree,  what  is  called  the  chemical  power,  just  that  power 
which  is  required  to  develop  and  propel  the  embryo  of  the 
seed.  When  the  tender  stalk  is  rearing  itself  from  the 
ground,  and'  needs  nutriment  to  hel[)  it  grow,  the  solar  ray 
is  distinguished  by  a  predominance  of  the  light-giving  pow- 
er, lio-ht  being  the  agent  which  most  directly  assists  the 
plant  in  secreting  from  the  atmosphere  the  carbon,  with 
which  its  woody  fibre  is  formed.  And  when  the  autumn 
approaches,  and  the  fruit  is  to  be  matured,  the  chemical 
and  luminous  principles  diminish,  and  the  heat  giving  power 
becomes  predominant  in  the  ray,  heat  being  that  which  is 
most  needed  to  mature  and  ripen  the  product  of  the  plant. 
And,  did  not  exactly  such  an  order  as  this  exist,  in  the 
mechanism  (so  to  call  it)  of  the  sun,  or  were  this  order  dis- 
turbed, vegetable  life  would    become  abortive! 

Now  what  contrivance  is  here;  and  what  grandeur  of 
contrivance  ?  And  all  (for  the  machinery  is  complete  in 
the  case  of  each  individual)  for  the  growth  of  the  little 
flower,  which  you  may  crush  with  your  foot.  Tbe  sun,  the 
strong  man  of  the  skies,  is  thus  made  the  minister  of  the 
plant.  Its  functions  have  been  adjusted  to  the  wants  of  the 
minutest  herb,  and  it  is  its  mission  as    much    to    nurse   the 


TIIK    LII.V    OP    THE    FIELD.  91 

liuinl)le  lily  with  its  beams  as  it  is  to  kindle  with  them  the 
disc  of  the  mightiest  i)lanct.  Consider  now,  another  fact, 
ill  illustration  of  God's  care  of  the  grass  of  the  field.  The 
proportions  of  the  great  earth  itself  have  been  determined 
so  as  to  c  >!iform  pi-ecise'y  to  the  conditions  which  are  re- 
quired in  order  to  the  production  of  the  smallest  plant  that 
grows  upon  its  surface.  Any  material  change  in  its  bulk 
would  be  fatal  to  the  whole  vegetable  world.  It  is  a  famil- 
iar fact  that  the  plant  derives  its  sustenance,  very  much, 
from  the  moisture  which  by  some  internal  force  is  forced  up 
from  the  earth,  and  distributed  through  every  limb  and  leaf. 
But  the  attraction,  or  what  ever  else  this  internal  force  may 
be,  must  naturally  be  counteracted  by  the  gravit}'  of  the 
earth.  If  the  force  of  this  gravity  be  unduly  great  it  must 
prevent  the  rising  and  dispersing  of  the  sap  through  the 
tubes  of  the  plant.  If  it  be  unduly  small  the  sap  must  rise 
too  rapidly  and  violently  for  the  purpose  of  affording  health}' 
support.  And  in  either  case,  from  inanition  or  repletion 
the  plant  must  sicken  and  perish,  unless  some  change  should 
take  place  in  its  organization.  Now  the  mass  of  the 
earth,  and  the  height  and  capacity  of  eadli  plant  that  grows 
upon  it,  are  so  adjusted  to  each  other,  that  the  precise  re- 
sult always  occurs;  that  the  moisture  absorbed  by  the  root 
rises  just  as  far,  and  is  distributed  just  as  widely  as  there 
are  organs  to  receive  it.  The  force  of  gravity  is  graduated 
exactly  so  as  to  allow  the  internal  power  of  the  plant  to 
perform  successfully  its  functions,  of  supplying  it  with  nu- 
triment. But  let  this  nice  balance  be  destroyed,  as  it  would 
be  the  moment  the  bulk  of  the  earth,  and  consequently  the 
force  of  gravity  were  increased  or  diminished,  (supposing  al- 
ways the  plant  to  remain  unchanged)  and  the  whole  process 
of  vegetation  must  cease.  The  veiy  same  power  and  wis- 
dom then,  which  were  concerned  in  weighing  and  shaping 
the  mighty  globe,   were  concerned  in  providing  for  the  growth 


92  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

of  the  humblest  tiower.  frod  made  the  earth  for  the  lily  as 
ranch  as  the  111}'  for  the  earth.  The  same  thing  is  illustra- 
ted by  another  well  known  fact.  In  plants  which  hang  their 
heads  when  in  bloom,  the  pistils  (upon  which  the  dust  which 
fertilizes  the  blossom  mnst  be  deposited)  are  longer  and 
hence  lower,  then  the  stamens  which  snpply  this  dust.  The 
gravity  of  the  earth  is  the  power  which  causes  the  dust  to 
drop  to  its  appointed  receptacle..  And  it  is  so  adjusted  that 
it  produces  just  that  etl'ect.  Now,  says  a  learned  writer  on 
physical  science,  "an  earth,  greater  or  smaller,  denser  or 
rarer  than  the  one  on  which  we  live  would  require  a  change 
in  the  structure  and  strength  of  the  footstalks  of  all  the  lit- 
tle flowers  that  hang  their  heads  under  our  hedges.  And 
is  there  not  something  curious,  lie  adds,  in  an  arrangement 
by  which  the  great  globe,  from  pole  to  pole  and  from  cir- 
cumference to  centre,  is  employed  in  keeping  a  snow- drop 
in  the  position  most  suited  to  the  i)roinotion  of  its  vegeta. 
ble  health  ?"  I  might  go  on  to  speak  of  the  mathematical 
principles  which  are  applied  to  the  formation  of  the  texture 
of  plants  and  show  with  what  artistical  regularity  these  fab- 
rics have  been  ela'borated.  And  I  might  follow  the  various 
changes  which  the  chemical  elements  furnished  by  the  at- 
mosphere, produce  and  show  how  nicel}'  the  law  of  definite 
proportions  is  observed  in  them  all.  But  what  I  have  said 
is  enough  to  illustrate  my  point,  that  the  life  of  a  flower  is 
something  upon  which  God  has  expended  an  amount  of  care 
and  contrivance  and  power,  which  is  fitted  to  overwhelm  us 
with  astonishment.  He  has  made  the  lily  grow,  by  the 
same  stupendous  apparatus  l)y  which  He  lit  the  fires  of  the 
sun,  and  shaped  the  mass  of  the  earth,  and  ordered  the  rol- 
ling of  the  seasons,  and  compounded  the  constituents  of  the 
atmosphere,  and  underlaid  the  universe  with  general  laws  of 
order,  and  proportions,  and  sequence.  All  this  he  has  done 
for  what  we  call  an  insignificant  plant ;  and  all  this  we  are 


THE    LILY    OF    THE    FIELD.  93 

called   upon  to  notice  when  we  are  directed  to    consider    the 
lilies  how  they  grow. 

And  now  I  argue  that  in  all  tbis  wbich  he  has  done  for 
the  plant,  we  have  a  type  of  what  he  may  be  expected  to 
do  for  creatures  of  a  higher  class.  I  draw  from  all  this 
the  inference,  that  arrangements  more  wonderful,  and  plans 
of  far  higher  import,  may  be  expected  to  appear  in  God's 
economy,  in  reference  to  moral  beings.  The  soul  is  a  olant 
of  immortal  nature.  A  flower  of  Paradise  and  with  what 
care  may  not  He  who  provides  for  the  lily,  provide  for  it  ? 
And  what  strange  ministries  may  not  He  employ  for  its  pre- 
servation and  growth?  Look  at  the  soul  as  sin  has  made  it; 
cleaving  to  the  dust,  encrusted  in  worldliuess,  passive  and 
dead  as  to  spiritual  things.  Left  to  itself  it  is  helpless,  it 
will  never  germinate  into  its  true  life,  it  will  never  expand 
and  aspire  in  the  direction  of  its  true  destiny.  That  which 
is  born  of  the  flesh,  is  flesh.  The  soul  naturally  is  in  liond- 
age  to  carnel  appetites,  and  encumbered  with  earthly  inter- 
ests, like  tbe  seed  imprisoned  in  the  soil.  Now,  shall  God 
raise  the  seed  from  its  grave,  and  give  it  health  and  beau- 
ty, and  yet  sufl'er  tbe  soul  to  lie  neglected  in  its  corruption, 
and  perish  forever  ?  Will  he  so  clothe  the  grass  of  the  field 
and  not  much  more  clothe  that  nobler  creature  ?  Will  he 
notice  the  little  grain  in  the  earth,  and  give  it  a  body  as 
it  pleaseth  him,  and  not  mark  man  in  his  fallen  state,  and 
reanimate  the  spirit,  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins?  There  is 
a  ground  laid,  therefore  in  the  existence  of  a  beneficent 
vegetable  economy,  for  the  expectation  tbat  a  higher  econ- 
omy, suited  to  the  exigencies  of  moral  beings  and  adapted 
to  recover  them  from  the  ruin,  in  which  sin  has  involved 
them,  will  be  devised.  And  hence  we  are  not  surprised  to 
learn  from  a  revelation,  that  God  has  no  pleasure  in  the 
death  of  tbe  sinner  ;  and  tbat  He  lias  provided  a  way,  a 
system  of  means,   for   the  salvation  of  the  guilty.     The  tru- 


94  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

ly  penitent  man  who  has  felt  sin  to  be  a  bondage,  and  a 
burden,  and  a  power,  that  is  ever  working  death  in  hnu,  and 
who  is  sighing  for  deliverance  from  it,  and  panting  for  the 
light  and  life  of  God's  love,  may  be  en(;onraged,  therefore, 
by  the  growing  lily.  The  sweet  tlower  will  tell  him  there  is 
hope  for  him;  and  will  preach  to  him  from  its  lowly  pul- 
pit the  gospel   of   the  grace  of  God. 

And  something  too,  of  what  mysteries  that  gospel  may 
be  exepected  to  contain,  it  will  suggest  to  him.  For, 
after  all  wLiat  wonderful  arrangement  of  means  and  dis- 
tribution of  agents  and  forces  which  we  iiave  seen  employ- 
ed in  the  vegetation  of  a  plant,  we  are  not  surprised 
to  learn  from  the  Revelation,  tliat  man's  salvation  has  been 
wrought  out  by  marvelous  processes,  and  contrivances  stu- 
pendously great.  Men  sometimes  denounce  the  doctrines  of 
Christianity  as  unreasonable,  because  they  represent  God  as 
doing  so  much  for  the  salvation  of  man,  because  the  meas- 
ures he  is  said  to  have  adopted  are  so  extraordinary,  and 
so  (as  they  judge)  disproportionately  vast  and  costly.  The 
incarnation  and  the  atonement  of  a  Divine  Redeemer,  the 
gracious  offices  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  the  existence  of  a 
previous  purpose  in  the  mind  of  God  contemplating  the  sal- 
vation of  the  particular  soul  fi-om  eternity,  tliese  seem 
incredible  ;  and  incredible  because  (to  the  person  in  ques- 
tion) they  seem  too  grand  and  elaborate  an  apparatus  for 
the  object  proposed.  If  such  thoughts  trouble  any  of  you, 
consider  what  measures  (liod  has  adopted  for  the  growing 
of  the  grass,  which  to-day  is  and  to-morrow  is  cast  into 
the  oven.  See  the  humble  lily,  throwing  its  relations  around 
the  sunbeam,  and  the  path  of  a  planet,  and  the  bulk  of 
the  earth,  and  the  elements  of  the  atmosphere,  and  the 
great  laws  of  proportion  and  combination  which  spread  their 
network  through  creation  ;  and  cease  to  wonder  that  there 
are  great  things  brought  to  light  in  a  plan  which  aims  at  the 


THE    LILY    OF    THE    FIELD.  95 

redemption  of  a  soul.  What  way  God  shall  take  for  de- 
veloping and  maturing  the  life  of  a  plant,  we  cannot 
(apart  from  the  fact,  forcast  or  divine,  nor  what  way  he 
shall  take  to  redeem  and  sanctify  a  fallen  man.  That  he 
should  exceed  our  thoughts  in  his  plans  is  probable.  That 
He  has  done  so  in  the  production  of  the  plant,  we  can  eas- 
ily see.  Why  should  we  be  so  reluctant  to  hear,  then, 
from  the  Bible  that  He  has  done  so  also,  in  the  salvation 
of  man  ?  (),  dear  friends,  the  history  of  the  flower  re- 
bukes you  for  your  slowness  to  believe  the  stupendous 
truths  of  Christianity!  With  all  its  strange  revelations  be. 
fore  us,  what  commends  itself  to  us  as  more  likely,  than 
that  God  should  so  love  the  world  as  to  give  His  only  be- 
gotten sou,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  per- 
ish but  have  everlasting  life  ?  Or  that  the  mercy  that  par- 
dons sin  should  shine  upon  us  through  a  mediator,  who 
was  God  manifest  in  the  flesh  ?  Or  that  the  energy  which 
quickens  the  passive  soul  into  spiritual  life,  should  be  the 
power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  ?  Or  that  the  change  which  such 
a  soul  undergoes  in  being  delivered  from  sin,  should  be  a 
new  birth  ?  Indefinite  wonders  we  are  undoubtedly 
taught  to  expect  in  any  economy  of  grace  which  God  should 
devise;  from  the  wonders  which  we  find  characterizing  the 
economy  of  nature,  and  why  stagger  at  those  which  Chris- 
tianity  reveals,   any  more   than  at    any   others  ? 

But  to  return  to  the  emblem  of  the  text,  we  may  con- 
sider the  Illy  not  inaptly,  as  the  type  of  much  that  belongs 
to  the  development  of  the  spiritual  principle  in  the  life  of 
the  convertect  man.  For  what  was  the  grain,  lying  in  the 
soil,  we  have  at  length,  the  growing  plant — a  thing  whose 
proper  home  is  the  quiet,  secluded,  cultivated  field.  There 
is  no  aflSnity  between  the  flower  and  the  battle-plain,  ploughed 
bj'  the  war-horse's  hoof,  or  the  crowded  street,  worn  hard 
by    the    tramp    of   busy    men,    or   the    rocky-reef    swept   by 


96  A    PASTORS    VALEDICTORY. 

the  wave  and  tbe  storm.  The  flower  loves  the  habitations 
of  peace.  It  twines  its  tendrils  around  ^our  door-posts, 
nestles  under  the  ledges  of  your  windows,  expands  within 
the  enclosure  of  your  gardens,  or  shelters  itself  in  the 
lonely  glen  and  valley.  The  flower  is  not  the  nurseling  of 
the  jostling,  struggling,  Qgiiting  world.  It  vegetates  in  the 
tranquil  nooks  and  corners  of  ground  where  the  sunshine 
and  the  dew,  anil  the  hand  that  teiuls  it,  the  eye  that  loves 
it,  are  its  only  visitors.  And  piety  in  the  soul  is  not  the 
nurseling  of  the  strifes,  and  exciteujents,  and  cares,  and  pas- 
sions, of  the  world.  It  must  grow  as  the  lily  grows,  where 
heaven  can  look  down  upon  it,  and  it  can  look  uj)  to  heaven. 
It  wants  its  hedge  of  domestic  sanctities,  and  its  consecrated 
closet,  and  its  quiet  solitude,  in  which  to  meditate,  and  its 
cloisters  in  the  breast  where  holy  thoughts  and  spiritual  af- 
fections, may  shelter  their  purity  from  outward  pollution. 
Show  me  a  languid,  sickly  Christian,  and  I  shall  explain 
the  secret  of  his  unhappy  condition,  [)robably  by  saying, 
"he  is  growing  wliere  he  ought  not  to  be."  He  has  become 
entangled  with  the  allairs  of  this  life;  and  the  dust  of 
worldliness  is  blighting  his  spiritual  frame,  and  earthly 
schemes  and  cares  have  separated  him  from  fellowship  with 
God,  and  his  Son.  He  has  left  that  fenced  garden,  that  spot 
"out  of  the  world"  where  the  Saviour  placed  him,  and 
where  the  "beloved'  (as  the  Song  of  Solomon  expresses 
Christ's  art'ectionate  intercourse  with  his  saints),  "goes  down 
to  wander  amidst  tiie  beds  of  spices,  and  to  gather  lilies." 
Yet,  let  it  not  be  supposed,  that  man  is  to  cease  to  be 
man,  and  sever  his  heart  from  all  human  sympathies  and 
interests,  by  becoming  a  Christian.  Though  there  is  noth- 
ing more  distinctly  ati3rmed  in  the  (Jospel  than  "that  if  any 
man  love  the  world,  the  love  of  the  Father  is  not  in  him," 
yet  in  a  certain  sense,  the  controlling  sentiment  of  the 
Saviour  in  coming   from   heaven,  was  his  love  for  the  world; 


THE    LILY    OF    THE    FIELD.  97 

and  i\8  he  loved  men,  and  sympathized  with  them,  and 
shared  in  their  interests,  and  honored  the  relationships  that 
bound  them  tc^gether — in  a  word,  made  himself  one  with 
them,  so  must  we  do.  And  this  kindly  identity  with  our 
race,  is  one  ot"  the  conditions  of  spiritual  health.  Our  hearts 
need  to  be  knit  with  others,  in  the  ties  that  God  has  or- 
dained, and  made  the  web  that  holds  society  together,  in 
order  that  grace  may  thoroughly  pervade  and  sanctif}'  them. 
The  religion  that  makes  man  a  stone,  rootless  and  flower- 
less,  lying  upon  the  surface  of  the  earth  like  rubbish, 
rather  than  blending  with  its  mould  as  a  vital  part  of  its 
organism,  is  not  the  religion  of  the  gospel.  That  takes 
the  lily,  the  growing  plant  as  its  type,  with  its  radicle 
penetrating  the  soil  beneath,  while  its  vigorous  plume  lifts 
itself  heaven war<l  above.  God  made  the  family  and  the 
many  relationships  to  which  it  gives  birth.  God  made 
the  love  of  our  neighbor  to  stand  parallel  with  our  love 
to  ourselves.  God  gave  the  heart  as  many  flbres,  with 
which*  to  clasp  its  loved  ones,  as  he  gives  to  the  starting 
germ  with  which  to  fasten  itself  to  the  soil.  And  piety 
will  suffer,  just  as  nature  is  mutilated,  by  wresting  it  from 
these  laws  and  ordinances  of  its  Creator.  The  hermit  and 
misanthrope,  the  monk  and  the  nun,  are  not  the  true  pro- 
ducts of  the  Gospel;  and  never  have  given,  and  never  will 
give  to  the  world,  the  kind  of  holiness  which  Christ  came  to 
introduce  amongst  men.  lie  took  upon  himself  the  nature 
of  Abraham,  we  read,  and  not  that  of  angels,  and  we  are 
not  to  throw  otf  nature  in  becoming  his  disciples.  It  is  not 
a  petrified,  but  a  sanctifled  nature,  that  constitutes  piety, 
a  nature  that  intertwines  itself  with  all  the  relationships  of 
society,  and  refines  and  purifies  them  all,  and  so,  through 
them  all,  draws  nutriment  to  its  own  spirituality,  and  ex- 
hibits in  new  forms  the  manifold  grace  of  God. 


98  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

And  so  too,  I  may  add,  piety  is  something  which  em- 
bellishes life.  It  is  a  flower  upon  the  earth,  and  an  odor 
in  the  atmosphere.  Its  influence,  whenever  its  functions  are 
in  healthy  exercise,  is  pleasant  and  beneficent.  It  is  absent 
from  the  heart,  or  languishing  there  whenever,  as  the  Pro- 
verb has  it,  it  is  not  "an  ornament  of  grace  to  the  head," 
that  is,  whenever  it  is  not  found  investing  an  individual 
with  amenity  of  manner,  and  amiability  of  disposition.  It 
was  made  to  be  a  blessing  to  the  world;  to  be  a  softness 
and  a  beauty  amidst  its  asperities  and  deformities.  It  was 
made  to  gladden  the  eye  of  the  jaded  traveler  by  the 
roadside,  to  adorn  the  drawing-room  and  the  sick  chamber, 
to  wreathe  roses  upon  the  brow  of  the  child,  and  to  deck 
with  it  snowy  purity,  the  breast  of  the  bride.  Consider  the 
lily,  ye  followers  of  the  Saviour,  and  learn  like  it  and  learn 
like  him  to  be  beneficent  and  attractive,  making  others  bet- 
ter and  happier  for  the  seeing  of  you,  and  through  the  love 
you  win  to  yourselves,  persuading  them  to  love  the  religion 
which  you  represent. 

But  the  plant,  I  observe  once  more,  is  to  be  regarded 
as  a  type  for  the  Christian,  in  the  fact,  that  it  does  grow. 
It  is  not  a  stationary  thing.  There  is  an  idea  of  the  Divine 
Architect,  so  to  speak,  involved  in  the  embryo,  and  the 
history  of  the  plant  after  its  germination  is  the  development 
of  that  idea.  The  vegetable  world  is  in  perpetual  progress, 
tending  always  to  its  destined  end;  ami  elaborating  always 
its  appointed  results.  It  is  a  growing  world,  fulfilling  im- 
portant offices  in  the  present,  and  providing  for  others  which 
are  to  be  needed  in  the  future.  No  plant  lives  and  dies 
naturally  without  accomplishing  something.  It  embellishes 
one  season,  and  it  leaves  behind  it  the  means  of  embellish- 
ing another.  It  manifests  a  benevolence,  if  I  may  call  it  so, 
which  serves  the  generation  of  which  it  is  a  part,  and  then 
projects    itself    on   to    the    following    one.     It    throws  itself 


THE    LILY    OF    THE    FIELD.  99 

thus  into  the  universal  eunent  of  vegetable  life;  and  helps 
to  keep  it  llowing  on,  through  the  track  of  foreseen  ages. 
In  the  graphic  lines  of   the  poet — 

"The  piil|).y  acorn,  e'er  it  swells,  I'outains 
The  oak's  vast  branches  in  its  uiilky  veins; 
Each  ravelled  bud,  line  tilni,  and  fibre  line, 
Tracetl  with  nice  pencil  on  the  small  design. 
The  j'oung  Narcissus,  in  its  bulb  compres.-ed, 
Cradles  a  second  nestling  on  its  breast, 
In  whose  fine  arms  a  younger  embryo  lies. 
Folds  Its  thin  leaves,  and  shuts  its  tloret-eyes; 
Grain  within  giain,  succe.ssive  harvests  dwell. 
And  boundless  forests  slumbers  in  a  shell." 

And  so,  the  Christian  is  taught  that  his  life  ought  to 
l»e  a  growth,  a  development,  and  execution  of  the  purposes 
entertained  by  his  Creator  in  giving  him  being,  and  espe- 
cially, in  making  him  the  subject  of  his  quickening  grace. 
His  piety  ought  to  be  prolific.  In  his  soul,  upon  its  tablets, 
there  was  mapped  a  plan,  coincident  with  the  germination 
of  his  spiritual  life,  which  God  intended  him  to  fulfill,  in 
what  he  should  thereafter  be  and  do;  a  plan  which  contem- 
plated many  results  for  himself,  and  for  others  contemporary 
with  him,  and  for  generations  to  come  after  him.  And 
piety  is  the  fulfilling  of  this  plan.  The  kingdom  of  God  is 
a  growing  kingdom,  a  prolific  power  in  the  heart  and  in  the 
world.  It  is  like  the  grain  of  mustard  seed,  small  perhaps 
in  the  beginning,  but  spreading  and  rising  until  it  becomes 
the  greatest  of  all  herbs.  Its  effect  in  the  individual,  as 
the  Psalmist  describes  it,  is  to  make  him  "like  a  tree  plant- 
ed by  the  rivers  of  water,  that  brought  forth  its  fruit  in  its 
season,  and  whose  leaf  never  withers,"  and  its  effect  upon 
the  race  of  mankind,  when  its  consummation  shall  have 
been  attained,  as  Isaiah  foretells  it,  will  be  to  "make  the 
wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  glad,  and  the  desert  to  re- 
joice and  blossom  as    the   rose." 


100  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

Now,  Christian,  cousider  the  lily  here;  and  ask  your- 
self if  you  ure  growing,  so  as  to  fulfill  the  purposes  of  your 
Master,  in  giving  you  a  place  in  his  kingdom.  He  wants 
no  stationary  member  there  He  wants  no  one  to  live  and 
die  there,  leaving  the  world  no  better  than  if  he  had  never 
been  in  it.  You  have  something  to  do;  something  which 
the  present  and  the  future  are  both  expecting  at  your 
hands.  And  if  you  have  the  true  spiritual  life  in  your 
soul,  you  will  not  be  willing  to  go  out  of  the  world  with- 
out leaving  an  impression  upon  it  somewhere  which  shall 
go  to  swell  the  influences  that  are  to  etfect  the  world's  re- 
generation. 

VVitli  one  thought  more,  I  will  conclude.  Consider  the 
growing  plant.  It  is  growing,  because,  it  was  good  ground 
into  which  the  seed,  from  which  it  sprung,  had  fallen. 
Some  seed,  shaken  from  the  parent  stalk  at  the  same  time, 
fell  upon  the  hard  wayside,  and  the  fowls  have  devoured 
it  up.  Some  fell  upon  stony  ground,  and  the  scorching 
sun  has  withered  its  feeble  blade.  Some  fell  among  thorns, 
and  the  thorns  have  sprung  up  and  choked  it.  And  from 
these  seeds,  there  are  uo  graceful  blossoms,  no  promising  har- 
vests, blessing  the  world  to-day.  My  friends,  the  seed  of  spir- 
itual and  eternal  life,  is  the  word  of  God — the  Gospel  which 
we  preach  in  Christ's  name  unto  you.  And  its  legitimate  ef- 
fect is  to  lead  men  to  repentance  towards  God,  and  faith  in 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  holiness  of  heart  and  conduct.  If 
it  has  not  produced  this  elfect  upon  you,  it  is  because  there 
has  been  in  you  no  good  ground  upon  which  to  receive  it. 
Your  souls  have  been  kept  in  unbelief,  by  the  artifices  of 
the  Devil,  or  the  fear  of  some  temporal  loss  or  reproach, 
or  by  the  cares  or  pleasures  of  the  world.  And  yet  this 
seed  of  the  word  must  have  its  effect,  or  you  can  have 
no  hope,  none  which  God  sanctions,  of  salvation.  How 
long   do   you    intend    to  continue    unfruitful    hearers   of   the 


THE    LILY    OF    THE    FIELD.  101 

word?  Are  your  raincls  made  up  never  to  believe  and  obej- 
the  Gospel?  Alas,  then  I  can  tell  you  what  is  to  be  the 
result.  These  spring  flowers  will  soon  be  blooming  over 
3'our  graves.  And  sweet  witnesses  of  the  love  of  God,  as 
they  are,  in  their  blindness,  they  will  still  l>e  whispering  of 
his  love  above  the  spot  where  your  bodies  are  reposing. 
But  there  will  be  nothing  to  speak  to  your  lost  souls,  of 
that  love.  There  will  be  no  tokens  of  mercy  to  meet  you 
in  that  cheerless  world  where  your  spirits  will  have  gone, 
and  the  onl}'  voice  that  can  come  to  you  there,  will  be 
that  wail  of  hopeless  sorrow  in  which  3'our  own  tongues  will 
have  to  take  part,  "the  harvest  is  past,  the  summer  is 
ended,   and  we  are  not  saved." 


THE  SEAT  OF  SIN 

OCTOBEll  25,  18(>8. 


"Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  O  God,  and  lenew  a  rljjlit  spirit 
within  me."— Psalm  51:10. 


DAVTD,  at  the  time  he  composed  this  prayer,  was  ab- 
sorbed with  the  contemplation  of  that  particular  sin, 
or  course  of  sin,  to  which  yon  will  tind  a  reference 
made  in  the  title  of  the  Psalm.  While  under  the  influence 
of  the  unwholesome  passion  by  which  he  had  been  decoyed 
into  this  sin,  or  course  of  sin,  he  had  been  like  a  man  in- 
toxicated, or  in  a  delirium.  With  an  infatuation  which 
made  him  a  totally  different  being  from  his  proper  self,  he 
rushed  persistently  down  the  declivity  of  transgression,  till 
in  the  end,  he  found  himself  in  a  perfect  slouch  of  crime 
and  infamy.  Then  the  bandage  dropped  from  his  eyes,  the 
paralysis  lelt  his  soul.  He  awoke,  as  it  were,  to  a  sudden 
discovery  of  what  he  had  done,  and  what  he  had  become. 
We  will  not  stop  to  explain  the  phenomenon  of  his  apos 
tacy.  It  is  confessedly  a  mysterious  one.  It  belongs,  how- 
ever, to  a  class  of  phenomena,  frequent  enough  in  their  oc- 
currence to  be  familiar  to  us  all.  You  may  see  persons, 
almost  any  day,  deploring  some  act  or  procedure  in  which 
they  have  been  engaged,  wondering  that  they  could  have 
been  foolish  and  wicked  enough  to  engage  m  it,  and  pro- 
testing that  could  they  get  back  again  to  the  point  where 
they  stood  before  consenting  to  engage  in  it,   nothing  could 

102 


THE    SEAT    OF    SIN.  103 

induce  them  to  engage  in  it.  Tbey  liave  all  been  thrown  b}' 
some  irregular  action  ot  the  mind  into  a  state  of  temporary 
intoxication  or  delirium.  David's  case  was  an  extreme  one 
of  this  class;  but  extreme  eases  do  now  and  then  occur,  in 
all  the  departments  of  mental  life. 

But  what  I  propose  that  we  shall  look  at  is  the  form 
and  direction  which  David's  desire  for  a  recovery  from  his 
fall  took.  He  had  committed  a  complicated  and  aggravated 
sin  against  God  and  man.  It  left  him  with  remorse  in  his 
heart,  with  a  stain  upon  his  character,  with  guilt  on  his 
soul,  and  with  the  torture  of  apprehended  retribution  in  his 
conscience.  He  was  not  content,  as  he  might  have  been,  to 
remain  with  desperate  self-abandonment,  in  such  a  condi- 
tion. From  this  abyss  into  which  he  had  sunk,  he  evident- 
ly sought  to  escape.  He  would  regain,  as  far  as  such  a 
thing  was  practicable,  the  ground  he  had  lost.  The  direct 
and  obvious  way  to  do  this  would  be  to  get  himself  back 
again,  as  nearly  as  possible,  into  the  relations  with  God 
and  man,  in  which  he  had  been  placed  before;  to  have  his 
account  with  the  injured  parties  set  right;  to  do  what  was 
requisite  in  order  to  the  canceling  of  his  sin;  and  the 
avoiding  of  the  consequences  of  it;  in  other  words,  to  ob- 
tain forgiveness  for  it  from  God,  and  to  make  reparation 
for  the  wrong  involved  in  it,  to  man.  An  evil  deed  once 
done  is,  of  course,  done  forever.  It  is  fixed  in  the  unal 
terable,  inaccessible  past,  and  can  never,  as  an  actual  fact, 
be  undone.  As  an  effectual  fact,  though,  that  is,  as  a 
fact,  viewed  in  its  bearing  and  operation,  it  may,  to  a 
greater  or  less  extent,  be  undone.  If  you  have  inflicted  a 
wrong  upon  a  neighbor,  you  may,  in  the  first  place,  by  a 
compliance  with  certain  conditions,  receive  a  full  and  hearty 
pardon  from  him,  which  will  put  you  riglit  in  respect  to 
his  feeling  toward  you.  You  may,  in  the  second  place, 
make  amends  to  him  for  any  damage  he  may  have  sustain- 


104  A  pastor's  vai.edictorv. 

cd  tliroiigli  3'our  ill  conduct,  which  will  put  you  right  in 
respect  to  his  outward  estate.  And  then,  you  may,  in  the 
third  i)lace,  by  an  entire  and  permanent  reformation  in  your 
deportment,  regain  yonr  character,  which  will  put  you  light 
in  respect  to  the  community  at  large.  And  by  these  means 
you  may  be  said  to  have  retraced  your  way,  almost  if  not 
qui'.e,  to  the  spot  from  whicli  you  had  diverged.  Gcnerall}- 
it  is  in  this  way  that  men  seek  to  elTect  a  return  from 
those  aberrations  by  which  they  have  declined  from  r(!cti- 
tude;  and  when  they  have  successfully  pursued  it,  and  have 
achieved  the  result  it  aims  at,  they  are  satisfied.  They  con- 
sider themselves  virtually  reinstated  in  the  ))osition  they  had 
originally  occupied.  David  might  have  ad(^>i)ted  this  way  in 
proposing  to  himself  an  escape  from  his  condition  of  apos- 
tacy.  And  indeed  he  did  adopt  it,  for  these  steps  belong, 
fundamentally,  to  any  process  by  which  *a  transgressor 
undertakes  to  restore  himself  from  a  state  of  sin  to  one 
of  rectitude.  That  he  sought  pardon  from  God  for  his 
grievous  offences  we  know  from  various  declarations  in  this 
Psalm.  That  he  made  what  reparation  lay  in  his  power  to 
parties  affected  by  his  wrong  doing;  and  that  he,  during  his 
subsequent  life,  put  a  check  upon  his  appetites  and  main- 
tained a  purity  of  character,  we  know,  or  may  accept  as  an 
indubitable  inference  from  his  history.  But,  you  will  ob- 
serve, he  does  not  stop  with  these  steps.  He  is  not  s.atis- 
fied  with  a  result  which  usually  satisfies  men  in  their  di- 
gressions from  rectitude.  In  getting  out  of  his  condition 
of  guilt  and  infamy,  he  feels  that  something  more  is  need- 
ed, than  putting  himself  right  towards  the  parties  upon 
whom  he  had  inflicted  wrong.  He  wants  to  be  put  right  in 
himself.  He  argues  that  the  act  of  sin,  committed  by  a 
man,  demonstrates  the  existence  of  something  more  than 
tiie  fact  created  by  the  commission  of  that  act;  that  it 
demonstrates  a  prior,  inherent  depravity  in  the  man   himself 


THE    SEAT    OF    SIN.  105 

— au  unclean  heart  and  a  corrupt  spirit — l)y  which  he  has 
been  prompted  to  commit  that  act.  He  finds,  after  look- 
ing at  such  an  act.  that  if  it  were  possible  to  undo  it,  ab- 
solutely and  literally,  so  that  every  trace  of  its  existence 
should  be  obliterated,  and  the  man  who  committed  it  should 
appear  as  blameless  as  though  he  had  never  committed  it, 
still  there  would  be  the  evil  element,  the  sinister  principle 
in  him,  which  had  been  revealed  b}'  the  commission  of  it, 
to  be  noticed  and  reckoned  with.  "Though  I  comfort  my- 
self with  the  thought,"  he  may  be  supposed  to  have  reflect- 
ed, "that  my  sin  is  no  longer,  in  any  way,  charged  to  my 
account,  that  God  and  man  look  upon  me  as  though  1  had 
never  committed  it,  still  there  is  the  fact — that  I  could  and 
did  commit  it — remaining  to  be  estimated,  and  dealt  with. 
How  could  I  have  committed  it?  Why  did  I  commit  it? 
The  only  explanation  of  such  a  fact  is,  that  I  have  in  me 
an  unclean  heart  and  corrupt  spirit;  and  though  my  sin  has 
ceased  to  exist  as  a  fact  to  be  laid  to  my  charge,  the  un- 
clean heart  and  corrupt  spirit  survive,  and  make  me  in  na- 
ture and  disposition,  a  sinner  still."  And  therefore,  we  find 
David's  desire  for  recovery  from  his  fallen  estate,  taking 
the  form  and  direction  it  does  in  the  text,  and  going  the 
length  it  does,  when  it  expresses  itself  in  the  prayer, 
"create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  0  God,  and  renew  a  right 
spirit  within  me." 

The  idea  which  thus  underlies  the  prayer  of  David  is 
an  important  one,  and  one,  which  it  is  to  be  feared,  is  too 
generally  overlooked.  Our  conception  of  sin,*  as  a  quality 
in  ourselves  or  others,  is  very  apt  to  be  identical,  and 
therefore  coextensive  only  with,  our  perception  of  sin  as  a 
fact  in  ourselves  or  others.  Our  judgments  of  men,  are 
determined  by  our  view,  and  our  estimate  of,  their  acts. 
And  if  by  any  process  we  can  expunge  these  acts  from 
their  record — if  we  can  cover  them  over  with   apologies — or 


106  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

neutralize  their  weight  by  baUmchig  against  them  certain 
good  acts,  we  are  ready  to  conclude  that  they  can  be,  only 
in  a  mitigated  or  partial  degree,  reckoned  sinners.  "I  have 
never  injured  any  one,"  "I  have  led  an  honest  and  virtuous 
life,"  "m}'  conscience  is  at  rest,  and  L  am  not  afraid  to 
meet  God,"  is  language  which  the  minister  of  religion  not 
unfrequently  hears  from  the  lips  of  the  dying  man.  And 
yet,  I  do  not  know  that  the  dying  man  was  ever  yet  seen, 
who  would  not  confess  tliat  in  some  things  he  had  done 
wrong.  When  reminded  that  in  appearing  before  God  it 
will  be  inciiml)ent  on  him  to  satisfy  Him  that  he  is  free 
from  sin,  to  make  good  his  claim  to  rectitude  before  his 
bar,  to  maint.'iin  his  case  at  the  tribunal  of  a  judge,  who 
knows  everything,  who  forgets  nothing,  and  who,  from  the 
knowledge  of  the  heart,  couples  always  the  act  with  the  dis- 
position and  motive  from  which  it  sprung,  the  dying  man 
is  rarely,  perhaps  never,  found,  wlio  is  hardened  enough  or 
blind  enough  to  adhere  to  his  plea  of  innocence.  Though 
he  may  have  persuaded  himself,  while  looking  at  the  rules 
and  methods  of  adjudication  current  in  the  world,  that  Ihe 
plea  is  valid,  you  have  only  to  get  him  to  apprehend,  in- 
telligently, that  it  has  now  to  be  tried  by  such  rules  and 
methods  as  pertain  to  the  adjudications  of  God,  to  make 
him  see  that  it  will  not  stand.  He  may  say  to  the  human 
inquisitor,  "you  cannot  find  a  flaw  in  my  life,"  because  he 
is  thinking,  when  he  says  this,  of  the  low  stand-point  from 
which  the  human  inquisitor  must  inspect  him,  and  the  low 
standard  by  which  he  must  estimate  him;  but  when  he 
thinks  of  God,  the  Divine  inquisitor,  inspecting  him  from 
his  stand-point  and  estimating  him  by  his  standard,  he  will 
say  no  more,  "you  cannot  find  a  flaw  in  my  life."  He 
will  say  rather  with  the  Psalmist,  "in  th}^  sight  shall  no 
man  living  be  justified."  He  will  know  that  there  are 
obliquities  and  deficiencies  in    his  life,   such  as    God    in  the 


THE    SEAT    OF    SIN.  107 

application  of  iiis  law  to  it,  must  notice  and  condemn,  as 
sins.  And  if  lie  continues  to  say,  "I  am  not  afraid  to 
meet  God,"  it  will  not  be  in  connection  witli  such  asser- 
tions as  "I  have  injured  noljody,  I  have  led  an  honest  and 
a  virtuous  life,  my  conscience  is  at  rest,"  but  in  virtue  of 
a  trust  he  has  reposed,  rightly  or  wrongly,  in  something 
which  assures  him  that  (Jotl  can  and  will  be  gracious  to  sin- 
ners. Sin,  as  a  fact,  ])eyond  all  dispute,  lies  at  every 
man's  door;  is  charged  against  every  man  in  that  account 
which  he  has  to  settle  with  God.  In  some  of  its  various 
forms,  it  insinuates  itself  into,  and  it  vitiates  the  acts  of 
every  man. 

But  now,  the  question  which  David  seems  to  have 
asked  arises,  why  is  it  that  this  sin  appears  in  the  acts  of 
every  man?  How  can  this  universal  consent  to  the  com- 
mission of  sin  be  accounted  for?  The  answer  to  this  ques- 
tion will  lead  us  to  the  same  conclusion  which  David 
reached — the  heart  in  man  is  an  unclean  heart;  the  spirit 
in  man  is  a  disordered  and  corfupt  spirit.  The  moment 
that  30U  have  proved  that  every  man  is  chargeable  with 
the  commission  of  sin  as  a  crime,  you  have  proved  that 
every  man  is  chargeable  with  the  entertaining  of  sin,  as  a 
vice.  You  have  shown  that  there  is  in  him,  a  disposition, 
which  when  it  has  vent  and  expression,  produces  the  fact 
of  sin.  You  may  look  upon  the  devastation  caused  by  the 
eruption  of  a  volcano,  upon  the  dismantled  dwellings,  and 
scorched  fields,  and  half-buried  villages,  and  say,  "here  is 
a  stupendous  catastrophe — an  appalling  prodigy  of  evil-do- 
iog;"  but  you  would  say  also,  "yonder  in  the  bosom  of 
that  mountain,  lies  the  energy,  the  agent,  which  has 
wrought  the  mischief."  And  though  you  should  see  , the  ef- 
fect of  the  eruption  in  time  removed,  and  the  scene  resum- 
ing its  former  look  of  comfort  and  security,  you  would 
never  cease    to    remember,    and    remember    with    a    shudder 


108  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

too,  that  in  the  bosom  of  3'onder  mountiiin,  though  sleep- 
ing now,  and  giving  no  sign  of  its  existence,  there  lies  the 
energy,  the  agent,  which  is  capable  of  l)ursting  ont  ngain 
at  any  moment  in  another  explosion,  and  repeating  the  ter- 
rible drama  of  ruin.  So,  I  say,  the  sinful  act,  which  you 
behold  in  the  life  of  man,  is  the  demonstration  of  the 
presence  of  the  baleful  fire  of  sin  in  the  breast  of  man; 
and  though,  you  could  undo  the  sinful  act,  and  put  things 
back  again,  so  to  speak,  in  the  state  in  which  they  were 
before  the  sinful  act  was  committed,  you  would  still  have 
to  remember,  that  the  baleful  fire  of  sin,  was  living  in  the 
breast  of  the  person  who  had  committed  it.  You  would 
have  to  take  account  of  this  latter  fact,  and  give  it  its 
value  and  weight,  in  forming  your  judgment  of  that  per- 
son, though  you  had  found  some  method  by  which  you 
could  legitimately  ignore  the  existence  ot  the  other  fact  of 
the  commission  by  him  of  the  sinful  act,  and  cancel  it,  as 
an  element  in  his  account.  The  volcanic  force  would  be  in 
him,  and  you  must  give  him  credit  for  it,  and  estimate 
him  at. what  its  significance  imports,  though  no  token  of  its 
fatal  working  in  the  past  be  visible,  and  no  menace  of 
forthcoming  convulsion  can  be  detected  in  its  present 
quietude.  Our  conception  of  sin,  therefore,  is  not  com- 
plete unless  from  a  contemplation  of  our  actual  transgres- 
sions, we  have  drawn  the  inference  and  recognized  the  fact, 
that  we  are  in  ourselves  sinful  beings — that  we  have  in 
our  nature,  a  disposition  which  makes  us  capable  of  sin- 
ning. Our  idea  of  a  sinner  must  represent  him,  not  merely 
as  one  who  perpetrates  acts  of  sin,  but  as  one,  who  in  his 
heart  and  spirit,  harbors  the  inclination  and  the  propensity 
to  perpetrate  acts  of  sin.  You  have  told  but  half  the 
truth,  when  you  have  said  of  this  or  that  criminal  thing, 
"I  have  done  wrong  in    doing  it."     You    must    go    farther, 


THE    SEAT    OF    ^IN.  109 

and  say,  '  'I  nin  inj'self  wrong,  I  am  in  ray  very  s))ccies 
and  temper  wrong,  or  I  could  not  have  consented  to  do  it." 
Tliis  idea  I  liave  said  is  an  important  one.  It  is  im- 
portant, Iteeanse  it  transfers  tlic  seat  of  sin  from  the  facts 
outside  of  a  man  to  liie  soul  -the  essential  element  within 
him.  It  assigns  to  it,  a  place,  not  merely  in  his  history, 
but  in  liis  character.  It  makes  it  not  merely,  attach  to  his 
conduct,  l)ut  inhere  in  his  constitution.  It  requires  us  to 
make  the  induction,  aiid  admit  the  conclusion,  that  in  the 
sinner,  subjectively,  apart  from  his  acts  of  wrongdoing,  and 
even  prior  to  ihem,  there  exists  a  wrongful  bias,  or  apti- 
tude, which  makes  him,  personally  a  wrong  thing,  irrespec- 
tive of  the  wrong  things  he  may  do,  or  may  have  done, 
just  as  we  make  the  induction  and  admit  the  conclusion 
that  the  tree  which  has  been  found  to  bring  forth  evil 
fruit,  is  in  itself  an  evil  tree.  As  the  object  in  all  the 
universe  which  man  is  most  concerned  in  understanding 
(next  to  God),  is  man  himself,  and  as  the  first  and  most 
vital  need  of  man,  is  to  be  sound  and  right,  in  his  own 
nature,  nothing  can  be  more  important  to  him,  than  the 
knowledge  of  such  a  fact  as  this,  for  it  is  a  fact,  which 
perhaps  more  directly  than  all  others,  determines  his  grade 
and  value  in  the  judgment  of  God.  Clearh',  the  heart,  the 
spirit,  is  the  index  which  an  infallible  intelligence  would 
look  at  before  all  others,  in  the  attempt  to  ascertain  the 
exact  standing  and  worth  of  a  man.  What  he  actually  is, 
is  the  fundamental  point  in  such  a  problem;  and  what  he 
does,  is  a  subordinate  point,  interesting,  merely  by  reason  of 
the  light  which  it  throws  upon  the  former  one.  Eveiything 
in  the  world  is  ranked  and  disposed  of,  ultimately,  by  an 
estimate  of  what  it  actuall}'  is.  When  you  know  this,  you 
know  where  to  place  it,  how  to  think  of  it,  what  treatment 
to  appl}'  to  it.  And  so,  man,  must  ultimately,  be  ranked 
and  disposed  of.     If  the  heart  in  him  be  an  unclean  heart, 


110  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

and  the  spirit  in  him  be  a  false  and  depraved  spirit,  he 
must  inevitably  be  pronounced  an  unclean,  a  false,  and  a 
depraved  being.  Now,  accepting  this  as  a  true  representa- 
tion of  man's  moral  state,  admitting  that  he  is,  in  his 
heart  and  spirit,  thus  morally  distempered,  so  that  he  is 
indisposed  often  to  do  what  he  knows  to  be  right,  and  dis- 
posed to  do  often  what  he  knows  to  be  wrong,  we  may 
notice  two  or  three  other  things,  in  connection  with  sin, 
which  are  deducible  from  this  fact. 

First,  it  ought  not  to  surprise  us  that  men  are,  to  a 
large  extent,  blind  to  their  real  condition  and  character  as 
sinners.  If  an  organ  is  unsound,  you  do  not  wonder  that 
it  does  not  perform  the  functions  of  a  healthy  one.  You 
do  not  wonder,  that  the  percei)tions  which  are  gotten 
through  it,  are  more  or  less  false.  Have  you  never  observed 
how  frequently,  sick  persons  are  deceived  as  to  the  course 
their  diseases  are  taking?  Have  you  never  heard  them  say, 
day  by  day,  "I  am  better,"  when  you  can  see  that  day  by 
day  they  are  dying?  Is  it  not  a  fact  that  a  physician 
rarely  undertakes  to  prescribe  for  himself,  because  he 
knows  that  he  is  incompetent  to  form  a .  correct  judgment 
of  his  own  case?  And  is  it  not  originally  probable,  there- 
fore, that  the  man  affected  with  uncleanness  of  heart  and 
corruptness  of  spirit,  would  be  liable  to  err  in  his  concep. 
tion  of  his  character  and  condition?  It  is  only,  in  fact,  a 
different  way  of  stating  the  same  thing,  to  say  of  a  man, 
that  he  is  unclean  in  his  Jieart  and  corrupt  in  his  spirit, 
and  to  say  of  him,  that  he  takes  false  views  of  himself,  that 
he  misinterprets  his  symptoms,  that  he  gives  credit  to  illu- 
sions, and  misconstrues  real  things?  For  it  is  just  by  such 
irregular  action  of  the  heart  and  spirit,  that  the  inherent 
unsoundness  of  the  heart  and  spirit  would  naturally  be  in- 
dicated. "If  the  light  that  is  in  thee  be  darkness,"  says 
our  Saviour,     "how  great    is    that    darkness."     The    internal 


THE    SEAT    OF    SIN.  Ill 

light  extinguisbed,  the  lantern  of  the  soul  fulflUing  its 
office  of  revealing  and  apprehending  the  truth  no  longer, 
what  can  there  be  in  the  man  but  darkness,  ignorance,  mis- 
conception and  error?  Men  notoriously  do  not  like  this 
doctrine,  that  the}'  are  in  heart  and  spirit  sinful  beings; 
and  generally  protest  against  it,  when  the  charge  it  contains 
is  directed  against  them  ))ersonall3';  or  at  least  listen  to  it 
with  an  apathy  which  shows  that  it  is  making  no  intelli- 
gent impressions  upon  their  mi'ids.  They  call  the  theology 
which  teaches  it,  a  harsh  and  odious  one,  a  caricature  and 
a  libel.  Pert  writers  tax  their  imagination  to  prove  in  the 
philosophic  essay,  or  illustrate  in  fiction  and  drama,  that 
human  nature  is  yet  in  its  normal  state,  working  right 
where  accident  does  not  disturb  it;  and  leaning  "e'en  in  its 
failings  to  virtue's  side."  The  goodness  of  the  heart,  is 
constantly  set  up,  as  a  counter-poise  to  whatever  of  bad- 
ness may  appear  in  a  man's  act;  and  the  vague  assertion, 
"his  spirit  was  a  pure  one,  he  meant  no  evil,"  is  a  mantle 
broad  en«jugli  to  cover  all  the  wrongdoing  of  his  lifetime. 
Such  utterances  may  be  made  with  perfect  honesty,  by 
those  who  use  them  (although  this  seems  hardly  credible), 
and  yet  prove  nothing  more  than  an  incapacity  in  these 
persons'  minds  to  entertain  the  idea  that  the  heart  is  un- 
clean and  the  spirit  depraved — which  may  be,  after  all,  a 
corroboration  of  the  main  fact  affirmed,  since  upon  the  as- 
sumption that  the  main  fact  is,  as  is  affirmed,  such  an  in- 
capacity to  see  it,  would  be  one  of  the  results  which  would 
be  expected  to  follow.  It  is  the  patient  disabled  by  the 
disturbance  of  his  faculties  consequent  on  his  morbid  state, 
from  giving  a  diagnosis  of  his  case.  The  general  outcry, 
with  which  the  promulgation  of  this  idea  is  met,  and  the 
hard  terms  which  are  frequently  resorted  to,  to  denounce 
it,  ought  not,  therefore,  to  surprise  ns.  The  Scriptures, 
with  a  wonderful    consistency    in  their    theory,    have    repre- 


112  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

sented  just  this  incapacity  to  see  the  distempered  condition 
of  his  heart  and  spirit — as  a  feature  in  the  sinner's  case, 
concurring  witli  tl>at  distempered  condition.  While  they 
aflirrn  tliat  the  heart  and  spirit  witliin  liim  are  unclean  and 
depraved,  they  affirm  also,  that  the  reasonings  and  judgings 
carried  on  b}'  means  of  them  may  be  and  often  are  diametri- 
call}'  at  variance  with  the  truth.  "A  deceived  heart  has 
turned  him  aside,"  is  the  remarkable  language  in  which,  in 
one  place,  they  make  this  affirmation;  "woe  unto  them  that 
call  evil  good  and  good  evil;  th:i,t  put  darkness  for  light  and 
light  for  darkness;  that  put  bitter  for  sweet  and  sweet  for 
bitter,"  is  the  way  in  which  they  make  it  in  another;  and 
"thou  sayest  I  am  rich  and  increased  with  good,  and  have 
need  of  nothing,  and  knowest  not  that  thou  art  wretched  and 
miserable,  and  poor  and  blind  and  naked,"  is  the  way  in 
which  the}'  make  it  in  another. 

But  a  second  remark  may  now  be  made,  which  is,  that 
we  have  in  this  doctrine,  a  perfectly  adequate  occasion  for  that 
exercise  of  Divine  power,  which,  according  to  the  Scriptures, 
is  needed  in  order  to  effect  a  recovery  of  man  from  his  condi- 
tion as  a  sinner.  The  individual,  who  like  David,  has  been  led 
to  see  that  the  act  of  sin,  being  outside  of  him,  in  his  conduct 
—  is  the  product  of  an  unclean  heart  and  a  corrupt  spirit 
within  him,  will  see  that  the  process  by  which  his  condition  is 
to  1)6  made  right,  will  be  something  more  than  an  undoing  of 
the  act  of  sin.  It  will  have  to  reach  and  operate  upcMi  him- 
self; it  will  have  to  accomplish  the  result  of  creating  in  liim 
a  clean  heart  and  renewing  within  him  a  right  spirit.  The 
Scripture  theory  is  consistent  with  itself  again,  in  this  partic- 
ular. It  proposes  a  remedy  exactly  suited  to  the  view  it 
gives  of  the  malady  to  be  healed.  If  the  case  of  the  sinner 
be  as  it  represents  it,  then  the  doctrine  which  it  announces, 
of  a  supervening  of  a  Divine  power  upon  his  heart  and  spix*it, 
in  order  to  the  cleansing  and  renewing  of  them,  is  entitled  to 


THE    SEAT    OF    SIN.  113 

credit  by  reason  of  its  correspond inji,  first,  witU  the  known 
exigencies  of  Liis  case,  second,  witli  the  precise  direction 
which  the  mercy  of  God  must  take  upon  the  supposition  tliat 
that  mercy  should  undertake  to  restore  him  from  his  fallen 
estate.  I^et  us  not  1)C  surprised  then,  when  we  are  told  that 
religion,  in  tlie  Bible  view  ot  it,  coniprHheuds  within  it,  and 
is  based  upon  a  change  in  the  subject  of  it,  which  is  called, 
"the  washing  of  legener ition  and  the  renewing  of  the  H0I3' 
Ghost."  What  less  than  this  would  serve  the  purpose,  if  sin 
be  a  fault  which  attaches  to  the  nature  of  man,  as  well  as  to 
his  acts,  and  if  the  remed}'  for  it  is  the  putting  a  clean  heart 
and  a  right  spirit  within  him?  This  is  evidently  a  work 
which  calls  for  an  exercise  of  Divine  power.  A  man  may 
possibl}',  in  a  certain  sense,  undo  an  act.  It  is  impossible 
tor  him  to  unmake  or  remake  himself.  When  it  comes  to 
the  work  of  creating  a  clean  heart  and  renewing,  or  new- 
making,  a  right  spirit  within  him,  he  must  look  up  to  the 
gracious  energy  of  God  as  David  did,  and  cry,  "create  thou 
a  clean  heart  in  me,  0  God,  and  renew  thou,  a  right  spirit 
within  me,"  Men  who  can  see  no  fault  in  human  nature, 
who  have  no  conception-  of  sin  as  an  infection  of  the  soul, 
as  a  thing  which  utterly'  forbids  the  idea  of  a  goodness  of 
heart  and  a  purity  of  spirit  in  the  being  of  whom  it  is  predi- 
cated, cannot  be  expected  to  see  any  reason  for,  or  proba1)il- 
ity  in,  this  doctrine  of  a  new  birth  and  a  vital  change  in 
the  recovered  sinner.  And  hence,  the  religions  which  are 
fabricated  by  man,  know  nothing  of  such  a  doctrine,  and 
preach  only  their  Gospels  of  Love,  or  Honesty,  or  Self-de- 
velopment and  Self-purification.  The  Religion  of  God  con- 
tained in  the  Bible,  substantiates  its  right  to  be  considered 
such,  by  the  profouuder  conception  which  it  requires  us  to 
take  of  sin,  and  by  the  revelations  of  a  process  by  which 
a  clean  heart  is  created  and  a  right  spirit  renewed  within 
the  sinner. 


114  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

A  third  remark  which  suggests  itself  is,  that  repent- 
ance IS  a  state  of  mind  which  includes  in  it  a  sense  of 
personal  unworthiuess  in  the  transgressor,  as  well  as  a 
sense  of  blame-worthiness  on  account  of  his  acts  of  wrong- 
doing. Though,  it  may  begin  with  a  discovery  of  this 
blame-worthiness,  as  was  the  case  with  David,  who  in  liis 
anger  at  his  own  sin,  as  portrayed  to  him  in  the  prophet's 
parable,  exclaimed,  "As  the  Lord  liveth,  the  man  that  hath 
done  this  thing  shall  surely  die,"  it  must  not  stop  with  it. 
It  must  pass  from  the  contemplation  of  the  unclean  act,  to 
the  unclean  heart  which  generated  the  act;  from  the 
wrong  deed  to  the  wrong  spirit,  which  prompted  and  con- 
sented to  the  deed.  It  must  make  the  man  stand  ashamed 
and  saddened  and  appalled  at  what  he  is  in  himself,  as 
well  as  what  he  has  done.  It  will  measure  the  breach  be- 
tween him  and  God  which  it  confesses,  more  by  the  contra- 
riety which  lies  between  himself  personally  and  God,  than 
by  that  which  appears  between  his  acts  and  God,  These 
acts,  in  themselves  perhaps,  may  not  excite  any  great  emo- 
tion. They  may  not  be  of  the  class  of  flagrant  sins  which 
shock  the  conscience  and  draw  upon  the  perpetrator  the 
remonstrances  and  execration  of  his  fellow-men.  But  when 
looked  at  as  indications  of  nature  opposed  to  God,  as  ex- 
pressions of  a  love  of  sin  predominating  in  the  soul,  as  the 
outflowing  of  a  fountain  of  wickedness,  which  lies  within 
him,  which  fountain  is  his  own  heart  and  spirit — they  will 
furnish  an  adequate  ground  and  motive  for  shame  and  sor- 
row, and  alarm,  In  this  view  of  them,  no  man  can  fail  to 
find  cause  enough  for  repentance,  in  his  sins;  and  with- 
out this  view,  his  repentance  will  not  be  a  genuine  exercise, 
belonging,  as  all  true  repentance  does,  to  the  gracious  work 
of  God,  by  which  the  unclean  heart  is  cleansed,  and  the 
corrupt  spirit  renewed.  For  till  the  heart  and  the  spirit 
are  brought  to  God  for  cleansing  and  renewing,   the  remedy 


THE    SEAT    OP    SIN.  115 

fof  sin  proposed  tlirough  his  gracious  work  is  not  applied 
for;  aud  wliile  tlie  remed}^  is  not  applied  for,  the  malady, 
it  undertakes  to  relieve,  sin  itself,  is  not  really  apprehended 
and  felt.  You  never  can  truly  repent  of  your  sins  till  you 
repent  of  yourself,  as  a  sinner;  till  your  sense  of  the  un- 
cleanness  of  your  heart  and  the  depravity  of  your  spirit, 
constrain  you  to  appeal  to  the  mercy  of  (lod  for  the  remov- 
ing of  the  vileaess  within  you.  And  this  ma}'  be  the  rea- 
son why  the  exercises  of  repentance,  through  which  some 
of  you  have  pas.sed,  have  not  been  attended  by  that  radical 
and  vital  change  which  the  Gospel  promises  in  the  case  of 
the  penitent.  You  have  repented  of  the  acts  of  injustice, 
or  unkindness,  or  deception,  or  licentiousness  you  have  com- 
mitted; that  is,  you  have  been  sorry  for  them;  you  have 
felt  humbled  on  account  of  them,  and  you  have  been 
troubled  at  the  prospect  of  the  punishment  they  have  ex- 
posed you  to,  but  you  have  not  repented  of  the  heart  aud 
the  spirit  which  led  you  to  commit  those  acts.  You  have 
been  sick  of  yonr  sins,  as  hateful  and  pernicious  things, 
and  wished  they  could  )je  undone,  and  sought,  perhaps,  as 
well  as  you  could,  to  undo  them;  but  3'ou  have  never  been 
sick  of  3'ourself — as  the  hateful  and  pernicious  author  of 
those  sins;  and  so  you  have  not  gone  to  the  remedy  of  the 
Gospel — for  that  is  for  you,  not  your  sins;  and  so  you 
have  not  experienced  the  healing  promised  to  the  penitent. 
The  prayer  you  must  use  before  you  can  experience  this, 
is  the  one  before  us.  "Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  O  God, 
and  renew  a  right  spirit  within  me." 

One  brief  remark  more  is  this:  The  Christian,  the  man, 
who  has  experienced  this  healing  process,  will  prove  the 
fact  by  the  assiduity  and  carefulness  with  which  he  main- 
tains the  cleannes.s  of  his  heart  and  the  purity  of  his  spirit. 
Acts,  outward  works  of  decorum  and  duty,  devotional  rites, 
and   rules   of   religious    order,   will    not    be    neglected,    but, 


IIG 


A    pastor's    VALEDICTORV. 


brethren,  if  the  great  change  which  makes  the  Christian, 
has  been  wrought  in  you,  it  began  in  the  heart,  and  the 
spirit,  and  it  will  attest  its  presence  and  reality,  by  a  [)ro 
gressive  work  there.  Hcnien}l>er  you  were  called  and  chosen, 
grafted  into  Christ,  and  scaled  by  his  Spirit,  not  merely 
that  your  sins  might  l)e  pardoned,  and  your  souls  ultimately 
translated  to  heaven,  but  that  you  might  bo  holy,  that  you 
might  be  distinguished  in  the  world  as  "i)arlakers  of  the 
Divine  nature,"  men  * 'known  and  read  of  all"  as  men  with 
clean  hearts  and  right  spirits.  Your  badge,  your  work,  the 
proof  of  your  conversion,  and  your  security  for  final  salva- 
tion, are  to  be  found  in  your  identifying  this  piayer  with 
your  life:  "Create  in  me  a  clean  heart,  O  God.  and  renew 
a  right  spirit    within    me!" 


THE  PENITENT,  ILLUSTRATED. 

DECKMUEIi   10,   1855. 


"I  will  arise  and  go  to  my  Father  and  will  say  unto  him, 
'Father  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and  before  thee  and  am  no 
more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son,  make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired 
i-ervants.'" — Luke  15:18.15). 


THE  charge  which  the  speaker  here  brings  against  him- 
self, and  the  judgment  whicli  he  passes  upon  liis  con- 
duct, do  not  surprise  us.  He  is  right  in  all  that  he 
thinks,  and  in  all  that  he  says  of  himself.  Just  such  pen- 
itential reflections  and  resolutions  became  bira  in  the  posi- 
tion in  which  be  bad  placed  himself.  Between  that  posi- 
tion and  bis  father's  presence  and  favor  there  was  a  great 
chasm  interposed,  which  required,  for  the  crossing  of  it, 
just  such  a  bridge  as  was  constituted  by  bis  present  state 
of  mind.  Just  sucb  a  bridge  is  required  in  order  to  the 
establishment  of  friendly  relations  between  the  parties  in 
every  case,  where  sin  has  interposed  its  chasm  between  man 
and  God.  Until  be  rejients  the  sinner  retains  a  posture  of 
deliberate  and  flagrant  opposition  to  God;  and  God  can  re- 
gard him  and  deal  with  him,  only  in  the  character  of  a  sin- 
ner. The  unholy  disposition,  or  wicked  practice,  which  be 
will  not  repent  of,  be  still  cherishes  and  clings  to;  and  if" 
sucb  unholy  disposition  or  wicked  practice  created,  at  the 
inception  of  it,  a  breach  between  him  and  God,  it  will  per- 
petuate that  breach  just  as  long  as  it  is  cherished  and 
clung    to.      Hence    in    any    overture    wbicb    God    might    be 

117 


118  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

pleased  to  make  towards  the  establisbineut  of  friendly  rela- 
tions between  himself  and  a  sinner,  it  is  to  l)e  expeeted 
that  the  exhibition  of  a  penitential  spirit  on  the  part  of 
the  latter,  would  be  one  of  the  first  and  most  positive  con- 
ditions. In  any  Gospel,  emanating  from  God,  and  propos- 
ing terms  of  I'eeonciliation  to  guilty  men,  it  is  to  l)e  ex- 
pected that  tin  injunction  to  repent  wonld  be  included  as  a 
primary  stipulation.  Accordingly  in  the  Gospel  of  our  I.iOrd 
Jesus  Christ,  we  do  find  this  injunction,  in  one  form  or 
another,  stated  upon  almost  every  page.  Side  by  side  with 
the  fact  of  sin  in  man,  it  lavs  the  obligation  to  repent. 
Argument,  precedent,  precept  and  illustration,  are  all  em- 
ployed to  enforce  it,  and  to  explain  the  manner  of  exe- 
cuting it.  As  the  physician,  in  attempting  to  restore  his 
patient  to  health,  prescribes  with  all  the  precision  of  which 
he  is  master,  the  means  to  be  used,  and  the  way  in  which 
they  are  to  be  used,  so  Christ  and  liis  Apostles  have  left, 
as  it  were,  no  expedient  untried,  to  impress  upon  the  sin- 
ner the  necessity  of  repentance,  and  to  enlighten  him  as  to 
the  nature  of  it.  Beyond  a  doubt  this  was  one  ot  the  de- 
signs of  our  Lord  in  delivering  the  parable  from  which  our 
text  is  taken.  The  Prodigal,  with  these  words  upon  his 
lips,  "Father  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  and  before 
thee,  and  am  "no  more  woiihy  to  l)e  called  thy  son;  make 
me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants,"  is  meant  to  stand  before 
the  world  as  a  type  of  what  every  wandering  child  of  God 
must  become,  before  he  can  be  restored  to  the  presence  and 
favor  of  his  Father  in  heaven.  Wandering  children  of  God, 
we  have  only  too  much  reason  to  believe,  are  present  here, 
this  morning,  in  this  congregation;  men  and  women  who,  in 
the  manner  of  their  lives,  are  separating  the  gifts  and 
bounties  of  God  from  God  himself,  nay,  who  are  substi- 
tuting these  gifts  and  bounties  for  God,  and  it  may  be,  in 
some  cases,  violently  using  them  for  purposes  which  he  has 


THE  PENITENT,  ILLUSTRATED.  119 

prohibited,  and  which  he  regards  as  per^onall}'  offensive  to 
himself.  The  liberal  prodigal — the  profligate  child  of  a  hu- 
man parent — the  youth  found  at  any  stage  of  a  course  of 
folly  and  vice,  like  that  which  the  subject  of  the  Saviour's 
story  had  entered  upon,  we  should  feel  like  pitying.  We 
should  feel  like  going  to  him  and  saying,  "You  are  rush- 
ing into  destruction.  This  riotous  living:  will  bring  you 
inevital>ly  to  shame  and  misery.  Be  honest  with  3'ourselt, 
and  confess  tiie  truth.  Look  where  you  are  going;  and  be 
persuaded,  while  the  opportunity  is  left  to  you,  to  retrace 
your  steps,  and  go  home  to  your  Father's  house."  And 
with  our  entreaties,  we  should  couple  such  counsels  and  di- 
rections as  we  might  be  able  to  give,  as  to  the  steps  to  bo 
taken,  and  the  temper  and  demeanor  to  be  assumed,  in 
starting  upon  this  return.  Oh,  could  we  but  see  it,  there 
is.  infinitely  greater  cause  for  the  enterlainment  of  pity  to- 
wards these  spiritual  truants,  these  wandering  children  of 
God,  than  there  would  be,  in  the  case  of  such  a  literal 
prodigal!  There  is  no  form  of  profligacy  so  desperate  as 
that  of  squandering  life  in  the  service  of  sin;  no  adventure 
so  reckless  as  that  of  trying  to  make  ourselves  independent 
of  God;  no  delusion  so  wdd  and  so  fatal  as  that  of  fancy- 
ing that  a  state  of  separation  from  God  can  prove  a  better 
state  than  one  of  harmony    and  friendship  with  him! 

This  Jesus  saw;  and  in  a  i)ity,  as  wise  as  it  was  pro- 
found, he  made  it  his  business,  while  he  was  on  earth,  and 
he  has  employed  his  Word,  his  Providence  and  his  Spirit, 
ever  since  his  ascension  to  heaven,  to  seek  out  the  sinner 
everywhere,  and  to  conjure  and  command  him  to  repent. 
He  has  taken  pains  to  make  the  manner- of  performing  this 
duty  as  plain  as  the  ol)ligation  to  perform  it.  To  formal 
and  didactic  expositions  on  the  point,  he  has  added  a  prac- 
tical example,  an  illustrative  specimen  of  the  process  of  re- 
penting,  in  the  parable  before  us.      He  has  opened  to  us  in 


120  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

the  Prodigal,  a  human  heart,  acted  upon  and  exercised  in 
the  process;  and  he  has  given  us,  in  his  utterances,  the 
formulas  by  which  a  heart  so  acted  upon  and  exercised, 
must  express  itself;  so  that  not  a  vestige  of  uncertaiuty 
may  remain  in  the  sinner's  mind,  as  to  what  he  is  required 
to  do,  when  he  is  called  upon  to  repent.  I  propose  to  set 
before  you,  in  further  remarks,  some  of  those  intimations 
which  the  text  throws  out,  as  to  the  nature  of  true  evan- 
gelical  repentance. 

And  first,  I  would  call  your  attention  to  the  import  of 
the  phrase,  "I  have  sinned."  It  is  an  expression  which 
may  signify  little  or  much,  according  to  the  spirit  in  which 
it  is  uttered.  We  must,  here,  give  it  all  the  force  and  ex- 
tent which  honesty  and  intelligence  in  the  speaker  could 
throw  into  it.  It  is  an  explicit,  positive,  categorical,  affir- 
mation. There  are  no  restrictions,  no  (lualificatioDs,  nt) 
reservations  in  it.  It  means  what  it  professes  to  .say  dis- 
tinctly and  fully.  It  differs  altogether  from  tLiose  weak  and 
frivolous  confessions,  which  are  often  heard,  which  while 
they  use  the  words,  "I  have  siuned,"  have  so  many  ex- 
cuses and  palliations  for  sin,  covered  up  in  the  sense,  that 
they  amount  really  to  a  declaration  of  the  penitent's  inno- 
cence rather  than  of  his  guilt.  Nothing  was  farther  from 
the  Prodigal's  thoughts  than  to  take  advantage  of  any  of 
those  devices  for  neutralizing  or  cancelling  the  wrongdoing, 
which  conscience  shows  in  its  account  against  them,  which 
self-deceived  or  presumptuous  men  adopt.  He  does  not  say 
"I  have  sinned,  but  I  meant  no  harm  by  it."  "I  have 
sinned,  but  no  worse  than  my  neighbor  "  "I  have  sinned, 
but  I  was  forced  to  do  so  in  order  to  maintain  my  respec- 
tability or  escape  detriment  to  my  worldly  interests."  "I 
have  sinned,  but  I  have,  at  the  same  time,  been  doing  so 
much  good,  that  m}'  merits  more  than  balance  my  trans- 
gressions."    You  discover  no    trace  of    this    undercurrent  of 


THE    PENITENT,     ILLUSTRATED.  121 

this  exculpatory  reasoning  in  his  heart.  You  detect  no 
whisper  aside,  by  which  tbe  mind  unsays  what  the  lips  say. 
"I  have  sinned'"  with  him  is  a  plain,  unequivocal  unadul- 
terated proposition.  It  is  the  testimony  of  an  honest  wit- 
ness, meaning  to  conve}'  exactly  the  impression  which  his 
words  legitimately  convey;  and  meaning  therefore,  to  take 
upon  himself  simply  and  absoluiel}',  without  prevarication 
or  apology,  the  character  of  a  sinner.  And  in  the  same 
open  and  unambiguous  way  every  genuine  penitent  will  ut- 
ter his  confession,  "1  have  sinned.''  He  will  not  attempt 
secretl}',  to  prove  tliat  he  is  no  criminal,  while  he  is  for- 
mally affirming  that  he  is  one.  He  is  too  ingenuous  to 
make  use  of  that  trickery,  by  which  the  soul  seeks  to  evade 
a  confession  of  its  guilty  character  to  itself.  He  has  no 
disposition  to  resort  to  those  adroit  rejoinders  to  the  accu- 
sation of  conscience,  by  which  the  sense  of  sin  may  be 
parried,  or  countervailed;  rejoinders,  I  may  remark,  by 
which  thousands  of  persons  falsify  their  so-called  repent- 
ance, and  keep  themselves  implicated  in  a  state  of  sin,  like 
the  fluttering  bird  entangling  itself  more  and  more  in  the 
toils  of  the  net.  "I  have  sinned,"  as  he  uses  the  phrase, 
will  utter  honestly  and  categorically  what  he  believes  and 
what  he  feels. 

And,  then,  further,  it  will  indicate,  as  it  did  in  the 
case  of  the  Prodigal,  that  beyond  the  conviction  of  the 
mere  fact  of  his  sinfulness,  his  mind  is  affected  with  a  clear 
and  intelligent  impression  of  the  evil  nature  of  sin.  No 
one  can  doubt  that  the  Prodigal  was  profoundly  in  earnest 
when  he  uttered  that  phrase.  He  not  only  meant  what  he 
said,  but  he  meant  much  by  what  he  said.  His  language 
is  unquestionably  the  language  of  strong  emotion.  And 
strong  emotion  is  the  result  of  some  clear  conception,  some 
vivid  conviction  in  the  mind.  You  do  not  cry,  "I  am 
lost,"  when  you  do  not  think  you    are    in  danger;    or  when 


122  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

3^ou  do  but  diml}-  appreliead  the  danger  to  which  you 
are  exposed.  It  is  the  sight  of  the  danger,  and  the  per- 
suasion of  the  magnitude  of  the  danger,  which  must  rouse 
within  you  the  emotion  of  which  the  cry,  "I  am  lost,"  is 
the  expression.  This  other  cry,  "I  have  sinned,"  uttered 
in  the  tone  and  temper  whicli  the  Prodigal  employs,  must 
be  interpreted  as  the  expression  of  an  emotion,  excited  in 
his  mind  by  a  powerful  manifestation  to  him,  of  the  guilti- 
ness, and  hurtfulness  of  sin.  The  same  view  must  lie  at 
the  basis  of  repentance  in  every  case.  The  party  must  see 
something  in  the  fact  which  he  confesses  Avhen  he  says  "I 
have  sinned"  which  awakens  within  him  the  emotions  of 
sorrow  and  shame  and  alarm.  He  must  have  some  clear 
appi'eheusion,  some  affecting  recognition  of  the  criminal  and 
ruinous  nature  of  sin.  To  some  extent,  he  must  have 
sounded  its  depth,  measured  its  proportions,  analyzed  its 
elements,  determined  its  properties,  and  traced  out  its  ten- 
dencies. If  men  fail  frequently  to  realize  the  character  of 
the  true  penitent,  as  I  have  just  said,  for  want  of  honesty 
in  confessing  the  fact  of  their  sinfulness,  they  fail  to  do 
so  with  still  more  frequency,,  it  is  probable,  for  want  of  a 
definite  and  adequate  knowledge  of  what  the  fact  of  their 
sinfulness  amounts  to.  They  have  not  deliberated  upon  its 
import.  They  have  not  informed  themselves,  they  have  not 
reflected,  so  as  to  have  an  intelligent  idea  of  its  meaning 
and  scope.  Is  it  a  grave  matter,  calling  for  grave  thought, 
grave  feeling,  grave  treatment?  Or  is  it  an  inconsiderable 
trifle,  a  subject  which  one  may  rationally  decline  to  trouble 
himself  about,  or  the  existence  of  which  he  may  ignore 
altogether  with  safety?  In  regard  to  the  majority  of  men, 
if  we  may  judge  from  their  conduct,  we  are  bound  to  con- 
clude that  if  they  have  raised  the  question  at  all,  they 
have  responded  to  it  in  the  latter  way.  They  have  pro- 
nounced sin  to  be    so    insignificant,   or    so    venial    an    affair. 


THE  PENITENT,  ILLUSTRATED.  123 

tliat  the}'  may  plead  guilty  to  it  in  tbe  past,  without  re- 
morse, and  continue  the  practice  of  it  in  the  future,  with- 
out compunctiou  or  hesitation.  You  may  hear  them  say, 
"I  have  sinned,"  perhaps,  when  going  through  the  forms 
of  public  worship,  or  when  forced  into  the  expression  of  an 
opinion  by  your  interrogatories  in  a  private  interview;  but 
the  confession  will  fall  from  their  lips  as  heartlessly  and  as 
mechanically,  as  if  they  were  assenting  to  your  remark 
about  the  weather  or  replying  to  your  question  about  the 
health  of  their  families.  In  vain  you  look  for  a  sign  of 
an  emotion  akin  to  that  which  lay  at  the  bottom  of 
the  Prodigal's  declai'ation.  In  vain  you  look  for  a 
symptom  of  pained  or  alarmed  sensibility,  to  show  that 
with  the  words  they  are  repeating,  the  idea  of  sin,  as  the 
word  of  God  represents  it  —the  idea  of  sin  as  a  crime,  as  a 
thing  abominable  in  the  eyes  of  God,  and  laying  the  per- 
petrator of  it,  under  the  ban  and  curse  of  his  throne — has 
at  all  presented  itself  to  their  minds.  Everything  in  their 
manner  proclaims  that  their  conceptions  of  sin  are  so  vague 
and  dark,  that  they  are  incapable  of  communicating  to 
their  hearts,  a  sense  either  of  its  hatefulness  or  its  harm- 
fulness.  And  hence  they  do  not  repent,  for  they  do  not 
understand  tbe  reasons,  they  do  not  entertain  the  motives, 
which  lead  to  repentance.  The  penitent  must  have  been 
endowed  with  that  which  they  do  not  possess,  that  is,  an 
insight  into  the  true  nature  of  sin.  He  must  have  bad  his 
eyes  opened  to  that  to  which  they  are  blind.  He  must 
have  made  the  discovery,  that  in  confessing  himself  to  be 
a  sinner  be  is  acknowledging  a  fact  of  tremendous  magni- 
tude in  its  bearings  upon  his  character  and  interests;  a  fact 
which  aiTa3'S  against  him  the  attributes  and  government  of 
God,  and  which  brands  him  with  the  stain  of  the  greatest 
crime  a  creature  can  commit.  The  question,  what  is  a 
proper  view  of   the  nature  of  siu  is,  therefore,   an  important 


124  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

one  in  connection  with  this  subject  of  repentance.  And  the 
answer  to  it  has  not  been  overlooked  by  the  Saviour  in  the 
form  he  has  given  to  this  parable. 

This  will  appear  if  we  look  now  at  the  phrases  which 
follow  after  and  which  precede  the  Prodigal's  confession, 
"I  have  sinned."  First,  take  that  which  follows  after  it, 
"I  have  sinned,  against  heaven  and  before  thee."  He  ex- 
poses here  the  central  element,  the  essence  of  the  idea  of 
sin,  which  his  mind  was  entertaining.  The  wrong  done 
to  his  parent,  the  disowning  of  the  sacred  ties  which  bound 
him  to  him,  the  violation  of  the  obligations  he  was  under 
to  him,  the  cruel  and  complicated  wound  he  had  inflicted 
upon  his  heart — this  it  was  that  stood  out  before  him  as 
the  chief  feature  in  the  spectacle  of  malignity  which  he 
recognized  in  his  conduct.  Could  the  emotion  which  was 
agitating  his  breast  have  been  analyzetl,  it  would  have  been 
found  to  contain,  unquestionably,  a  large  proportion  of  sor- 
row for  the  disgrace  and  misery  he  had  brought  upon  him- 
self. And  possibly  along  with  this,  there  would  have  been 
a  considerable  intermixture  of  that  pain  of  exasperation 
which  follows  upon  the  discovery  that  one  has  been  betrayed 
by  those  in  whom  he  had  confided;  and  farther  still,  there 
might  have  been  something  of  that  soreness — that  torment- 
ing disquietude  which  attends  the  conviction  that  one  has 
played  the  fool,  and  brought  upon  himself  the  contempt 
and  reprobation  of  the  community  around  him.  But,  up- 
permost among  all  the  feelings  which  were  struggling  in  his 
heart,  and,  asserting  itself  with  such  commanding  prece- 
dence of  tone,  that  all  others  were  for  the  moment  thrown 
into  the  back-ground,  was  this  of  remorse  and  grief  at  the 
fact  that  his  sin  had  been  the  transgression  of  the  law  of 
nature,  and  religion  which  required  him  to  love,  honor  and 
obey  his  father.  The  aspect  under  which  sin  must  appear  to 
the  soul,   in  repentance  towards  (iod,   is   analogous  to   this. 


THE  PENITENT,  ILLUSTRATED.  125 

Its  thought  must  place  God  just  where  the  parent  stood  in 
the  Prodigal's  thought.  The  emotion  which  expresses  itself 
in  the  confession,  "I  have  sinned,"  must  revolve  around  that 
grand  demonstration  of  grief,  contained  in  the  clause, 
"Against  heaven  and  before  thee."  Strike  where  it  may 
upon  earthly  objects,  upon  the  sinner's  self,  or  his  kindred, 
or  soeiet}^  it  is  refracted,  as  it  strikes  its  object,  like  a 
ray  of  light,  and  takes  its  direction  towards  God,  as  its 
ultimate  mark.  It  reaches  heaven,  and  reports  itself  there 
to  God,  as  an  arrow  does  to  the  heart  which  it  pierces. 
This  is  what  David  affirms,  when  -in  the  fifty-tirst  Psalm  he 
says,  "against  thee,  thee  only,  have  I  sinned."'  Not  against 
God  only,  in  one  sense,  for  his  sin  swept  over  a  large  cir- 
cle of  objects  in  its  course;  and  yet  against  (iod  only,  in 
that  sense  in  which  his  mind  was  now  apprehending  it; 
since  the  various  forms  of  wrongdoing  to  his  fellowmen 
which  had  been  included  in  it,  were  seen  by  him  now,  to 
have  passed  beyond  them,  and  to  have  converged  their  sep- 
arate shafts  into  one  great  volley  of  wrongdoing,  hurled 
against  God.  It  is  this  same  thought  or  conviction  which 
gives  its  tone  to  the  sorrow  of  the  penitent  man.  It  is 
this  which  makes  it  definite  and  specific — which  distin- 
guishes it  from  a  numerous  brood  of  other  sorrows  to  which 
the  sinner  is  almost  invaria))ly  subject.  You  will  find  him 
sometimes  bewailing  his  evil  practices,  when  their  wasting 
or  corroding  effect  upon  his  bodily  constitution,  in  tokens 
too  patent  to  be  denied,  begins  to  show  itself.  You  will  see 
him  weep,  sometimes,  as  he  reflects  upon  the  anguish  he 
has  poured  into  the  hearts  of  those  who  have  loved  him 
and  yearned  over  him,  in  all  his  wanderings,  with  tender 
constancy  and  patient  hope.  You  will  hear  him  sometimes 
cursing  the  vices  which  have  enslaved  him,  when  he  thinks 
of  the  heights  of  fortune  and  respectability  from  which 
they  have  dragged    him,   and    the    disappointment    and    woe 


126  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

into  which  they  have  decoyed  him  You  will  mark,  some- 
times, the  quenching  of  all  the  inner  light  of  life  in  his 
soul,  and  the  gathering  of  a  cloud  about  his  heart,  which 
wraps  him  in  habitual  melancholy,  and  makes  his  world  a 
scene  of  disgust — a  sick-bed  on  which  the  patient  tosses 
restlessly,  from  morn  to  night  and  from  night  to  morn,  or 
a  wintry  landscape  blasted  by  frost  and  draped  in  mist; 
until  in  the  desolation  of  his  spirit,  he  sighs,  like  poor 
Byron,  "the  worm,  the  canker,  and  the  grief,  are  mine 
alone."  But  in  none  of  these  phases  of  sorrow  in  sin  (in 
themselves)  can  you  detect  the  quality  of  that  sorrow  for 
sin,  which  constitutes  repentance.  Because  in  all  the  bit- 
terness of  soul  with  which  the  party  is  now  contemplating 
the  fact  that  he  has  sinned,  the  source  of  the  bitterness, 
does  not  lie  in  that  other  fact  that  he  has  '  'sinned  against 
heaven  and  before  Uod.''  It  is  not  that  fact  which  weighs 
upon  his  spirit  and  occasions  his  brokenness  of  heart.  It 
is  his  view  of  the  damage  which  sin  has  wrought  in  the 
direction  of  self,  and  not  the  wrong  it  has  been  doing  to 
God,  which  has  led  him  to  deplore  and  condemn  it.  And 
the  real  nature  of  sin,  therefore,  he  has  not  discovered. 
That  which  gives  it  its  real  malignity,  its  real  turpitude 
and  criminality,  he  has  failed  to  take  account  of.  0,  what 
a  waking  up  of  the  soul  from  these  low,  natural  concep- 
tions of  sin,  there  is  when  it  has  been  brought  to  see  it, 
in  the  simple  and  awful  light  of  a  direct  warfare  upon  the 
rights  and  the  person  of  God!  And  what  a  different  esti- 
mate is  then  put  upon  its  character!  And  how  unlike  all 
other  sorrows  is  the  sorrow  which  the  conviction  of  it  pro- 
duces in  the  heart!  "Against  heaven  and  before  thee" — 
that  and  no  other  is  the  connection  in  which  he  will  get 
his  idea  of  the  nature  of  sin. 

But  the  full  compass  of  this  idea  is  not   embraced  un- 
til we  take  into  view,   the   other  phrase  which    the  Prodigal 


THE  PENITENT,  ILLUSTRATED.  127 

uses,  as  introductory  to  liifs  declarutiou,  "I  have  sinned." 
That  pbrase  is  a  single  word,  but  one  of  tbe  most  express- 
ive ones  to  be  found  in  human  language.  It  is  "Father" 
— the  name  given  to  a  parent — the  -author  and  conservator 
of  our  being.  "Father,  1  iiave  sinned,  against  heaven  and 
before  tliee."  What  force  is  communicated  to  this  last  ex- 
pression, "before  thee,"  when  we  look  back  to  the  person 
referred  to  by  the  "thee,"  and  find  him  called  "Father!" 
"I  have  sinned"  is  the  language  of  conscious  guilt;  "Before 
thee, "  indicates  that  guilt,  in  the  speaker's  view,  consists 
of  the  direct  wronging  of  a  particular  party.  And, 
"Father,"  shows  that  that  party  is  the  last  one  whom  it 
could  be  expected,  that  malevolence  or  violence  could  be 
aimed  at — the  wrongdoer's  parent!  By  tracing  the  Prodi- 
gal's thought  up  to  this  climax,  we  may  see  in  its  broad 
features,  the  idea  which  was  present  to  his  mind.  By  con- 
ducting the  sinner's  mind  through  a  similar  order  of  thought, 
and  up  to  a  similar  climax,  we  shall  introduce  him  to  something 
like  a  correct  impression  of  his  guilt  in  reference  to  God. 
Let  him  sa}^  in  good  faith  and  with  an  informed  under- 
standing, "I  have  sinned" — and  then  let  liiui  consider  the 
sin  which  he  confesses  as  an  oft'ence  terminating  directly 
upon  God,  and  say  with  God  in  his  eye,  "against  heaven 
and  before  thee,  I  have  sinned" — and  then,  let  him  conceive 
of  God,  in  the  simple  character  of  a  "Father,"  till  the 
spirit  of  the  child  awakes  in  his  heart,  and  speaks  out  in 
complete  expression,  "Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven 
and  before  thee,"  and  he  will  have  attained  to  the  concep- 
tion of  sin,  and  will  have  begun  to  feel  that  emotion  in 
view  of  sin,  w'hich  will  demonstrate  him  a  true  penitent. 
It  is  because  men  invest  God  with  a  false  character,  and 
put  him  in  a  false  relation  to  them — because  they  think  of 
him  as  a  mere  philosophical  force,  necessary  to  be  assumed 
in  order    to  account   for    the  existence   of   other   things — or 


128  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

as  a  vague  melaphysical  abstraction— or  sort  of  universal 
idea  of  being  and  perfection — or  as  the  sum  and  embodi- 
ment of  the  laws  of  nature — or  as  an  arbitrary  monarcb, 
exercising  bis  power  witb  tbe  stern  inflexibility  ot  a  nia- 
cbine — or  as  a  keen-eyed  judge  searching  out  tbe  faults  of 
bis  creatures,  and  brandishing  over  them  the  merciless  lash 
of  retribution,  it  is  because  they  think  of  him  in  these,  or 
other  equally  illegitimate  ways,  that  their  hearts  are  so  slow 
to  admit  a  right  impression  of  sin,  or  to  entertain  right 
affections  towards  it.  Were  they  to  get  that  idea  of  him 
(which  is  the  only  true  one)  which  represents  him  as  a 
Father — a  Father  of  whom  the  human  father  is  only  a 
feeble  type,  a  Father  divine;  and  infinite  in  this  office,  as 
in  all  others  which  he  holds  or  exercises,  it  would  not  be 
so  hard  a  thing  to  make  them  sensible  of  the  guilt  of  sin, 
nor  so  rare  a  thing  to  find  them  repenting  on  account  of 
it.  Were  they  to  get  this  idea  ot  God,  they  would  see 
that  sin  in  them  is  the  spectacle  of  a  spirit,  having  the 
high  lineage  of  the  offspring  of  God,  dishonoring  its  nativ- 
ity, denying  its  parentage,  and  perverting  its  being  to  ends 
the  very  opposite  of  those  which  its  production  contempla- 
ted. They  would  see  that  sin  in  them,  is  revolt  from  the 
most  just  and  sacred  authority  that  could  conceivably  be 
set  over  them.  They  would  see  that  it  is  weakness  and 
ignorance,  presumptuously  rejecting  the  aids  of  the  highest 
power  and  wisdom — the  child  tottering  on  its  tiny  limbs 
and  not  knowing  its  right  hand  from  its  left,  thrusting 
back  the  supporting  arm,  and  rejecting  the  kindly  counsels 
of  a  father,  and  that  Father — such  a  one  as  God.  They 
would  see  that  it  is  ingratitude,  persistently  exhibited,  for 
the  most  lavish  bounty.  They  would  see  that  it  is  insult 
returned  for  the  most  affecting  offices  of  love.  They  would 
see  that  it  is  a  perpetual  discrediting  of  the  truthfulness  of 
him,   who  gave  them    the  idea  of   truth,   of    the   justness  of 


THE    PENITENT,     ILLUSTRATED.  129 

him,  who  gave  them  their  sense  of  the  obligation  of  Law, 
of  the  rectitude  of  him  who  gave  them  conscience,  and  of 
the  government  of  liim  who  taught  them  to  inaugurate  the 
magistrate  and  erect  the  tribunal.  The  penitent  sees  all 
this  in  his  sin,  because  he  sees  that  in  sinning  against  God 
he  is  sinning  agamst  a  Father,  possessed,  in  a  degree  be- 
coming God,  of  all  a  father's  affections,  and  attributes,  and 
prerogatives  towards  him. 

And  now,  having  reached  this  stage  in  his  experience, 
we  may  notice  a  remaining  one,  represented  in  the  Prodi- 
gal's closing  declaration,  "and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be 
called  thy  son,  make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants." 
This  is  the  judgment  to  which  his  apprehension  of  the  fact 
of  his  sin,  and  of  the  nature  of  that  sin,  had  brought  him. 
Where  he  had  been  originally  he  could  claim  to  be  no 
more.  The  thought  of  the  relation  and  position  in  which 
he  had  stood  to  his  Father,  as  a  child,  he  could  entertain, 
now,  only  as  an  aggravation  of  his  own  criminality.  The 
thought  of  returning  into  any  such  relation  and  position  he 
did  not  dare  to  invoke  as  an  agent  in  brightening  and 
sweetening  his  anticipation  of  his  future  lot.  In  what  he 
meant  to  be  an  extreme  expression  of  his  sense  of  his  own 
demerit  he  says,  "I  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy 
son,  make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants."  This  was  an 
appeal  to  mercy,  couched  in  terms  of  the  lowliest  humility. 
I  take  this  absolute  persuasion  of  his  entire  forfeiture  of 
right  and  favor  at  the  hands  of  his  parent,  and  the  neces- 
sity of  casting  himself  upon  simple  mercy,  in  his  return  to 
him,  as  an  illustration  of  another  feature  in  the  repentance 
which  the  sinner  is  required  to  exercise  towards  God. 
What  he  has  discovered  himself  to  be,  as  indicated  in  the 
expression  we  have  already  discussed,  "Father,  I  have  sin- 
ned against  heaven  and  before  thee,"-  is  all  he  can  present 
to    God    when    lie    proposes    to    seek     restoration     to    his 


130  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

favor.  He  can  bring  with  him  no  Pharisaical  parade  of  his 
own  righteousness,  he  can  only  come  lifting  the  Publican's 
cry,  "God  be  merciful  unto  me  a  sinner."  He  can  only 
come  bringing  with  him  such  a  conviction  of  his  personal 
unworlhiness,  as  seems  effectually  to  shut  up  the  way  of 
his  return,  and  preclude  all  hope  of  a  reception.  But 
mercy  may  open  the  door.  Mercy  may  suffer  the  disfran- 
chised child  to  occup3'  an  ignominious  corner  in  the  lodg- 
ings of  the  servants.  And  deserving  nothing,  the  Prodigal 
came,  asking  no  more  than  this — the  least,  as  he  intended 
it,  that  mercy  could  bestow.  And  in  such  humility,  in 
such  consciousness  of  his  own  guiltiness,  in  such  honest 
and  entire  renunciation  of  all  ground  in  himself,  to  demand 
a  favorable  acceptance  from  God,  the  penitent  must  come 
back  from  iiis  wanderings.  The  assurance  that  mercy  would 
respond  to  his  appeal,  the  Prodigal  could  not  possess,  till 
the  experiment  had  been  made,  and  had  terminated  accord- 
ing to  his  hopes.  The  sinner  is  happier  in  this  respect 
than  he.  The  Gospel  which  summons  him  to  this  duty  of 
repentance,  proclaims  to  him  before  hand  that  mercy  is  en- 
gaged, to  be  extended  to  him,  upon  his  due  compliance 
with  this  duty.  The  Gospel  tells  him  that  mercy  has  al- 
ready opened  the  way  for  his  admission  to  his  Father's 
house,  not  through  any  potency  emanating  from  his  repent- 
ance, or  in  consideration  of  any  merit  acknowledged  in 
that,  but  on  the  ground  of  the  potency  and  the  merit  of 
the  sacrifice  which  the  Son  of  God  offered  up  for  the  sin 
of  the  world. 

Out  of  this  fact  there  grows,  necessarily,  this  further 
doctrine,  that  the  mercj'  which  the  penitent  soul  will  feel 
impelled  to  look  to,  must  be  sought  for,  expectantly  and 
believingly,  on  this  ground  of  the  work  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.      The  repentance  of  the  Gospel  is  never  a  despairing, 


THE    PENITENT,     ILLUSTRATED.  131 

or  even  a  doubting  exercise.  It  must  be  coupled  with 
faith.  "He  that  repenteth  and  believeth,  shall  be  saved," 
is  the  Divine  command  and  promise  on  this  subject.  '-He 
that  coraeth  to  the  father  (and  none  can  come  who  do  not 
come  in  the  way  of  repentance)  and  in  the  name  of  Jesus, 
shall  in  no  wise  be  cast  out."  To  these  wandering  children 
of  God.  who  may  be  before  me,  to-day,  I  may,  then,  address 
a  closing  invitation  to  return  to  the  Father.  The  way  I 
have  pointed  out.  The  alternative  is  set  before  you,  to  re- 
main in  your  estrangement  from  God,  or  to  take  this  way. 
I  would  fain  hope,  that  there  are  some  whose  minds  are 
not  yet  so  blinded  and  stupefied  as  to  be  incapable  of  feel- 
ing any  solicitude  in  regard  to  their  standing  in  the  sight 
of  God,  or  their  destiny  in  that  eternity  to  which  they  are 
passing.  If  there  is  one  single  longing  in  your  hearts  af- 
ter peace  with  God,  one  single  palpitation  of  fear  as  to  the 
result  involved  in  your  present  course  of  sin,  one  whisper 
of  assent  in  your  hearts  to  that  view  of  the  necessity  of 
repentance  and  the  manner  of  it  'which  I  have  been  pre- 
senting, I  would  seize  hold  of  it,  as  the  angel  in  Sodom 
seized  hold  of  the  hands  of  Lot  and  his  party,  and  draw 
you,  by  means  of  it,  into  the  way  of  life.  I  would  urge 
you  to  enter  at  once.  No  enterprise  in  which  you  are  en- 
gaged, of  a  worldly  sort,  demands  such  prompt  and  imme- 
diate attention.  And  I  would  urge  you  to  make  no  mis- 
take as  to  the  nature  and  condition  of  it.  In  no  other  un- 
dertaking can  a  mistake  or  failure  involve  you  in  such  fa- 
tal damage.  Poor  Prodigal,  be  exhorted  to  arise  and  go  to 
3'our  Father!  Your  husks  may  be  exchanged  for  the  fatted 
calf!  God  may  be  secured  as  your  present  and  eternal 
friend,  and  heaven  as  your  heritance  and  home,  if  you  will 
only — with  your  eye  resting  upon  Jesus  as  the  way  of  ac- 
cess,  and  the   ground    of    acceptance — lay    at    the  throne    of 


132 


A    PASTOR  S    VALEDICTORY. 


Divine  mercy,  a  heart  breathing  this  confession,  "Father,  I 
have  sinned  against  heaven  and  before  thee,  and  am  no 
more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son,  make  me  as  one  of  thy 
hired  servants!" 


NCOMPREHENSIBLE  THINGS. 

NOVEMBEK   22,  1868. 


"Jesus  answered  and  said  tmto  liini  what  I  do  thou  knowest 
not  now,  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter." — John  13:7. 


THESE  words  of  our  Lord  contain  a  rebuke  called  forth 
by  the  restiveness  or  forwardness  of  Peter  in  refusing 
to  allow  his  Master  to  wash  his  feet.  The  conduct 
of  Peter  was  characteristic,  and  on  this  account  does  not 
surprise  us.  Perhaps  we  ma_y  go  further  and  say  it  was 
natural,  just  what  we  would  have  expected  from  any  one  in 
the  circumstances;  and  on  this  account  also,  it  does  not 
surprise  us.  The  wonder  is,  that  all  the  disciples  did  not 
do  as  Peter  did,  and  recoil  with  a  sort  ol  pious  indignation 
from  receiving  from  the  hands  of  Jesus,  a  service  which 
seemed  so  derogatory  to  his  office  and  character.  The  mind 
in  us  will  form  judgments  of  the  things  which  pass  before 
our  eyes.  According  to  those  rules  of  justice  and  propriety 
which  we  recognize  as  pertinent  to  the  case,  we  will  frame 
a  decision,  and  very  generally  utter  it,  in  regard  to  the 
right  or  the  wrong  of  any  thing  we  see  our  fellow  men  do- 
ing. Peter  did  this  in  the  case  before  him;  and  with  his 
usual  impetuosity  of  temper,  let  his  Lord  know  that  the  de- 
cision his  mind  had  come  to,  in  regard  to  the  thing  he  was 
proposing  to  do,  was  entirely  adverse  to  the  doing  of  it. 
And  so  he  gets  the  rebuke  contained  in  our  text.  Perhaps 
we  may  all  find  a  hint  in  the  manner  in  which  the  Saviour 
replied  to  Peter,  as  to  the  manner  in  which  our  minds  ought 

133 


134  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

to  act  in  view  of  those  doings  of  God  which  seem  to 
us,  contrary  to  justice  and  propriety.  So  long  as  we  can 
assign  reasons  for  the  doings  of  God,  so  h)ng  as  we  can  ac- 
count for  them  by  any  of  those  rules  or  tests  which  we  are 
accustomed  to  make  use  of  in  our  judgments  of  tilings,  the 
religious  mind  at  least,  will  always  be  glad  to  stand  by  the 
policy  of  God;  and  to  maintain  that  it  can  be  made  to  co- 
here with  the  principle  of  rectitude  and  benevolence  But 
sometimes  it  happens,  as  Peter  thought  it  had  happened  in 
the  case  before  him,  that  the  policy  of  God,  as  developed 
in  his  providence,  cannot  be  vindicated  tc^  our  minds,  by 
any  of  the  rules  or  tests  which  we  are  accustomed  to  make 
use  of.  Sometimes,  ins  doings  battle  us  utterly.  Sometimes 
they  seem  to  contradict  diametrically  our  ideas  of  rectitude 
and  benevolence.  Sometimes  we  are  disposed  to  start  back 
in  amazement  as  we  see  them  evolving  themselves  to  view 
in  the  facts  of  life,  and  we  are  ready  to  put  forth  the  hand 
to  arrest  them;  and  to  do  this  as  we  suppose,  under  the 
promptings  of  the  same  jealousy  for  the  honor  of  God  which 
made  Peter  protest  against  what  seemed  to  him  the  unbe- 
coming procedure  of  his  Master.  Events  which  thus  come 
athwart  the  line  of  expediency  as  human  judgment  draws  it, 
are  continually  occurring.  Our  faith  in  God,  or  at  least, 
in  the  doctrine  which  teaches  that  his  agency  is  concerned 
in  the  ordering  of  our  lot;  is  continually  tried  to  tlie  utmost 
by  the  turns  in  our  affairs  which  perplex  and  confound  us. 
What  is  it,  that  God  is  doing,  we  are  constrained  to  ask  in 
profound  bewilderment,  as  we  see  one  thing  after  another 
coming  to  pass  in  the  world  which,  to  our  view,  has  no 
place  in  and  no  congruity  with  any  wise  or  raei'ciful  scheme 
of  life!  We  have  only  to  recall  circumstances  which  have 
occurred  within  the  recollection  of  us  all  to  find  illustrations 
of  the  way  in  which  the  course  of  Providence  staggers  our 
minds,   by  its  anomalous  developments.      What  are  we  to  do. 


INCOMPREHENSIBLE    THINGS.  135 

when  confronted  with  these?  Are  we  to  deal  with  them  in 
the  same  positive  tone,  in  wliich  we  deal  with  those  doings 
of  God,  which  we  can  demonstrate  to  be  right  and  benefi- 
cent, and  therefore  adjudge  to  be  so;  and  adjudge  those  to 
be  wrong  and  injurious?  Are  we  to  give  sentence  against 
the  policj'  of  God,  on  the  one  hand,  in  just  the  same  cate- 
gorical way  in  which  we  are  accustomed  to  give  sentence  in 
favor  of  it,  on  the  other?  What  are  we  to  do  with  these 
cases,  in  which  the  operation  of  God's  Providence  is  so 
much  at  variance  with  our  ideas  of  justice  and  propriety, 
that  we  cannot  vindicate  it  to  our  minds  by  any  of  those 
rules  or  tests,  which  we  are  accustomed  to  make  use  of? 
The  text  seems  to  afford  an  explicit  answer  to  these  ques- 
tions. It  says  to  us,  "check  the  judgment  which  your 
mind  is  ready  to  pronounce!  Hush  the  word  which  is  ready 
to  give  it  form  and  substance!  Wait,  wait  diffidently,  wait 
patientl}',  wait  long,  before  you  venture  to  declare  anythino- 
which  you  see  God  doing,  wrong  and  injurious!"  This  is 
evidently  the  import  of  our  Lord's  address  to  Peter,  "what 
I  do  thou  knowest  not  now;  but  thou  shalt  know  hereafter." 
It  was  meant  to  la}'  a  curb  upon  the  boldness  of  his  spirit, 
to  remind  him  that  he  was  going  entirel}'  ahead  of  his  in- 
telligence, in  the  conclusions  he  was  forming;  that  his  mind 
was  rushing  presumptuously  to  a  judgment,  in  a  case  where 
it  was  his  duty  to  suspend  his  judgement,  and  wait  till  his 
intelligence  should  enable  him  to  think  and  speak  safely. 

This  duty  it  may  be  fairlj'  argued,  applies  to  us  all,  in 
those  cases  where  the  disposition  to  condemn  and  re 
verse  the  doings  of  God  is  asserting  itself  in  our  breast, 
from  the  fact  that  the  reason  assigned  by  our  Lord  for  en- 
joining it  upon  Peter,  applies  equally  to  us  in  those  cases. 
It  ma}'  help  us,  perhaps,  to  acknowledge  this  duty,  and  to 
be  more  willing  to  endure  patiently  those  procedures  of 
Providence  which  we  cannot  comprehend,    if    we   consider   a 


136  A    PASTORS    VALEDICTORY. 

little  these  reasons.  The  first  we  may  find  m  the  expression 
"what  I  do  thou  knowest  not.'"  Emphasize  the  two  pronouns 
in  this  expression,  "I"  and  "thou,"  and  then  reflect  upon 
the  characters  in  which  the  two  parties  represented  by  them 
stand  to  eacli  other,  and  yon  wdl  see  the  force  of  this  rea- 
son- The  "I,"  as  the  Saviour  uses  tlie  word,  means  God; 
and  the  "I"  who  is  showing  to  you  his  doings,  in  all  these 
mysterious  developments  of  Providence,  is  the  same  being. 
And  the  "thou,"  in  the  Saviour's  remarlv,  and  tlie  thou  ad- 
dressed in  all  these  doings,  is  man.  "What  I,  God,  do, 
thou,  man,  knowest  not."  You  liave  but  to  look  at  this 
proposition,  to  see  that  it  contains  a  self-evident  truth.  The 
moment  you  take  account  of  the  distinction  which  lies 
necessarily  between  God  and  man,  yon  must  confess  that  the 
acts  of  God,  and  the  policy  which  executes  itself  through 
those  acts,  must  be  expected  to  transcend  the  intellectual 
discernment  and  the  judical  sagacity  of  man.  Would  not 
that  distinction  be  obliterated  entirely,  if  it  were  required  of 
God  to  say  always  to  man,  "what  I  do,  thou  knowest;"  or 
if  it  were  permitted  to  man  to  say  always  to  God.  "what 
thou  doest,  I  know?"  Would  not  God  in  such  a  case,  ap- 
pear descending  to  the  level  of  man,  or  man  appear  rising 
to  that  of  God?  But  God  and  man  are  infinitely  separated 
and  separated  by  the  infinite  superiority  of  God  to  man- 
Mans  knowledge  of  God,  is  in  fact,  little  more  than  a 
knowledge  of  his  ignorance  of  him.  His  searches  after  him 
only  convince  him  that  none  by  searching  can  find  him  out. 
Now  this  theoretic  difference  between  God  and  man  must  ex- 
press itself  in  the  works  of  God  If  God  himself  is  some- 
thing to  be  wondered  at  by  man,  his  workings  may  be  ex- 
pected to  be  wonderful  in  the  eyes  of  man.  "What  I  do, 
thou  knowest  not,"  we  may  expect  to  hear  him  continually 
saying  to  man,  in  the  methods  of  his  Providence,  concerning 
man.     And  accordmgly  this  is  just   what    we    do    hear    him 


INCOMPREHENSIBLE    THINGS.  137 

sayiug  iu  tliose  procedures  over  which  we  stand  in  such  per- 
plexity, and  against  which  we  are  disposed  to  protest  with 
such  iuipatience.  Such  perplexity  and  such  impatience  ought 
to  find  their  cure  in  the  very  cause  which  excites  them.  To 
complani  of  these  procedures,  because  we  do  not  know 
them,  because  we  cannot  explain  them  and  justify  them  to 
our  minds,  is  to  insist  that  God's  doing  shall  contract  itself 
to  the  scale  of  man's  knowing  Is  not  this  an  abandonment 
of  our  theory  altogether?  If  our  conception  of  God,  as  a 
bemg  who  is  infinitely  different  from  us  and  infinitely  superior 
to  us,  is  right,  ought  we  not  to  be  surprised,  nay,  more  than 
surprised  confounded  and  thrown  utterly  adrift  in  our  faith, 
if  there  were  found  nothing  surprising  in  the  manner  of  God's 
acting,  in  his  providence?  Be  not  surprised  then  at  the  most 
surprising  things,  which  appear  in  his  acting.  He  gives  you 
the  explanation  of  them  all,  at  least  he  gives  you  the  ra- 
tionale by  which  you  may  consent  to  them  all,  when  he  says 
in  connection  with  each  one  of  them,  "it  is  I,  God,  who 
am  doing  this,  and  it  is  thou,  man,  who  art  trying  to  un- 
derstand  it." 

The  recollection  of  this  essential  difference  between  God 
and  man  will  lead  us  to  go  further,  however,  than  to  accept 
without  surprise,  the  appearance  of  anomalies  in  his  manner 
of  acting.  It  will  require  us  to  admit  that  it  lies  with  God 
entirely,  to  determine  upon  what  occasion  and  in  what  ways 
his  policy  shall  differ  from  that  which  we  are  disposed  to 
lay  down  for  him.  Assuming  it  as  a  conceded  postulate, 
that  God's  doings  must  to  an  indefinite  extent,  vary  from 
the  scheme  or  plan  which  man's  judgment  has  prescribed 
for  them,  the  question  ma}'  still  be  raised,  "who  shall  de- 
cide as  to  the  forms  and  seasons  in  which  these  variations 
in  his  doings  from  the  scheme  or  plan  which  man's  judg- 
ment had  prescribed  for  them,  shall  take  place?"  Is  it  the 
prerogative  of  God  to  do  this?     Or    may    man    put    forth    a 


138  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

claim  of  this  kind,  "T  know  that  what  thou  doest,  I  must 
expect  often  times,  uot  to  know,  l)ut,  I  claim  the  right  of 
choosing  the  time  and  the  methods  in  which  these  incom- 
prehensible things  shall  be  done  by  thee?"  Does  not  the 
mere  propounding  of  such  a  question  solve  it?  "Of  course," 
you  say.  "if  I  am  to  look  for  differences  in  the  manner  of 
God's  acting,  from  what  I  would  have  desired  or  recom- 
mended, it  devolves  upon  him  to  determine  when  and  how 
those  differences  shall  be  manifested.  For  if  the  right  be- 
longs to  me,  to  fix  the  time  and  methods,  in  which  they 
shall  be  manifested,  am  I  not,  after  all,  inhibiting  him  from 
differing  from  me  at  all,  and  insisting  upon  his  doing  what 
I  desire  and  recommend?"  But  the  question,  which  is  thus 
so  easily  answered,  when  we  look  at  it  in  the  face,  is  never- 
theless treated  by  us  practically  as  an  open  question.  An<l 
hence  it  continually  happens,  that  men  who  are  accustomed 
to  say  "we  know  that  what  God  does  must  oftentimes  be 
imcomprehensible  to  us,"  when  some  particular  incomprehen- 
sible thing  occurs  in  the  doings  of  God  concerning  them, 
cry  out  in  petulent  surprise,  "we  did  not  expect  this!  We 
cannot  consent  to  this!  We  admit  that  our  knowing  cannot 
be  the  measure  of  God's  doing,  we  are  prepared  to  see  va- 
riations between  his  manner  of  acting,  and  that  which  we 
had  prescribed  for  him;  but,  this  particular  doing  of  his  we 
were  not  prepared  for;  or  at  least,  not  at  this  particular 
time.  This  thing,  in  just  this  way  and  at  just  this  epoch 
he  ought  not  to  have  done;"  and  so  in  their  hearts,  the}' 
protest  against  it.  What  is  this,  but  to  treat  the  question 
as  to  who  shall  decide  in  what  respect  God's  policy  shall 
differ  from  man's,  as  an  open  question,  or  rather  as  a  ques- 
tion which  has  been  settled  by  assigning  to  man  the  right 
of  deciding  in  the.  case?  But,  as  we  have  seen,  this  is  a 
false  conclusion.  If  God  must  be  allowed  to  differ  from  us, 
he  must  be  allowed  to  differ  from  us  just  in  such  ways,  and 


INCOMPREHENSIBLE    THINGS.  "  139 

just  at  such  times  as  he  pleases;  and  when  we  consent  to 
the  proposition,  "that  man  knoweth  not  what  God  doeth,'' 
we  must  consent  to  all  the  incomprehensibleness  which  may 
attach  to  the  time  and  the  manner  of  his  doing  each  partic 
ular  thing  that  he  does.  ''What  I  do  thou  knowest  not," 
means  this,  that  over  all  that  is  inscrutable  in  the  seasons 
and  the  methods  he  selects  for  doing  the  strange  works  of 
his  Providence,  we  must  stand  reverently  still,  and  stay  the 
precipitate  motions  of  the  spirit  which  would  rise  up  and 
pronounce  judgment  against  him. 

And  now,  it  ought  to  be  noticed  that  this  requisition 
is  not  laid  upon  us  as  a  mere  edict  of  authority.  Whilst 
the  thing  doue  by  God,  may  be  something  which  we  do  not 
know,  and  whilst  it  may  be  argued  of  anything  done  by 
God,  that  man  is  not  authorized  to  condemn  it,  though  he 
does  not  know  it,  there  is  a  certain  species  of  evidence 
presented  to  the  mind,  in  the  fact  that  God  has  done  an}'- 
thing,  that  must  operate  powerfully  to  persuade  it  that  the 
thing  must  be  right.  No  matter  how  wrong  it  may  look  in 
itself  w^e  feel  that  we  are  warranted  in  believing  it  to  be 
right  on  the  simple  ground  that  God  has  done  it.  There  is 
what  we  call,  the  credit  of  personal  character,  a  reason  for 
trusting  in  him,  residing  in  an  individual  himself.  We  act 
under  the  influence  of  this  credit  continually  in  our  judg- 
ments of  things  done  by  our  fellowmen.  We  say  of  a  state- 
ment which  has  in  it  an  air  of  improbability,  "we  believe 
it,  unlikely  as  it  sounds;  because  it  is  reported  to  us  by  a  man 
who  is  noted  for  his  veracity."  We  say  of  some  act,  which 
seems,  as  it  strikes  our  eyes  to  be  in  violation  of  the  laws 
of  fair  dealing,  "we  should  pronounce  this  a  dishonest  act. 
if  it  had  not  been  done  by  a  man  proverbial  for  his  hon. 
esty. "  As  it  is,  we  are  sure  there  must  be  reasons  which 
would  justify  the  doing  of  it  if  we  knew  them."  Now 
the   demand   which    is    made    upon    us,    for   a  suspension  of 


140  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

judgment,  for  a  patient  reserve  in  the  entertaining  of  sus- 
picion as  to  the  rectitude  and  propriety  of  those  doings  of 
God  which  we  cannot  understand,  is  commended  to  us  pre- 
eminently, by  the  character  which  belongs  to  God.  All  the 
credit  which  is  due  to  that,  appeals  to  us  to  believe  that 
whatever  he  does,  however  sinister  may  be  the  aspect  of  it, 
is  right  and  kind.  "What  I  do  thou  knowest  not,"  contains 
an  attirmation  as  well  as  a  negation.  The  thing  done  may 
not  V)e  capable  of  being  known,  but  the  person  doing  it  may 
be  known,  and  known  in  such  a  way,  as  to  communicate  a 
certain  amount  of  perspicuity  to  the  thing  done.  When  God 
says  of  a  thing  "that  is  what  I  do,"  though  it  lies  before 
you  wrapped  in  mystery,  the  dark  object  gathers  around  it 
a  sort  of  corona  of  light,  in  virtue  of  that  mere  saying. 
"Thou  knowest  it  not,"  he  may  add;  and  the  echo  of  the 
words  may  sound  in  reverberations  of  pain,  from  all  the 
chambers  of  your  heart.  "Yes"  you  may  sigh  back  again, 
"I  kuow  it  not!  I  cannot  understand  it!  My  mind  can 
find  no  intelligible  point  in  it,  upon  which  to  rest,  no  lines 
or  feature  in  it,  with  which  to  associate  it  with  its  ideas  of 
rectitude  or  kindness.  I  can  only  gaze  at  it  in  blank  be- 
wilderment as  one  awakens  from  the  stunning  shock  of  a 
fall  into  a  dark  cavern."  There  it  may  lie  before  you,  a 
horrid  blot  upon  the  fair  page  of  your  life,  like  the  smoulder- 
ing ash-heap,  telling  where  the  sweet  home  of  yesterday 
stood;  like  the  sulphurous  fissures  ploughed  by  the  earth- 
quake through  the  squares  of  the  populous  city ;  and  you  can 
only  look  at  it  with  the  stifled  feeling  of  a  heart  full  of 
thought  which  cannot  take  shape,  or  find  vent  in  language, 
and  murmur  blindly  "I  know  it  not."  But  as  amidst  these 
echoes  m  the  breast,  you  catch  ever  and  anon  the  cadence 
of  the  other  saying,  "that  is  what  I  do,"  does  not  the 
pressure  upon  3^our  spirit  grow  lighter?  Does  not  the  gloom 
begin  to  break?     Does  not  the  void  seem  to  take   the   firm- 


INCOMPREHENSIBLE    THINGS.  141 

ness  of  standing  ground  beneath  your  feet?  Can  you  not 
change  your  tone  to  a  higher  key,  though  it  be  still  one  of 
sadness,  and  say,  "Yes,  I  know  it  not;  but  I  know  him  who 
did  it.  I  know  that  he  does  all  things  well.  And  with  my 
faith  resting  on  him,  I  will  try  henceforth  to  judge  his  act 
by  himself,"  and  to  say,  "I  was  dumb  and  opened  not  my 
mouth,  because  thou  didst  it?"  Ah,  there  is  an  infinite  re- 
lief to  the  soul  sometimes  in  getting  to  this  point,  where 
it  can  look  out  upon  its  sorrow,  not  upon  the  cheerless  side 
represented  by  the  exclamation,  "i  know  it  not,"  but  upon 
the  brighter  and  more  definite  one  represented  by  the  excla- 
mation "it  was  God  who  did  it."  For  there  is  something 
tangible  here,  upon  which,  the  trust,  repelled  b}'  the  for. 
bidding  aspect  of  the  former  side,  can  safely  repose  itself. 
We  can  consent  to  anything,  as  martyrs  have  done  to  the 
torture  of  the  rack  and  stake,  when  we  can  extend  to  it, 
and  cover  it  with  the  same  faith,  which  we  know  God  is 
entitled  to  receive  at  our    hands. 

But  a  second  reason  for  exercising  a  reticent  and  wait- 
ing spirit  under  these  anomalous  developments  of  Providence 
is  given  us  by  the  text:  "What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now, 
but  tbou  shall  know  hereafter.  '  Emphasize  in  this  instance, 
the  two  adverbs  of  time,  "now"  and  "hereafter"  and  you 
will  find  in  this  remark  of  our  Saviour's  several  facts  indi- 
cated, which,  go  to  make  a  conclusive  argument  in  favor  of 
exercising  that  spirit  which  he  enjoined  upon  Peter,  and 
through  him  upon  us  all.  First,  there  is  a  reference  to  that 
relation  which  subsists  between  the  now  and  the  hereafter  by 
which  the  events  which  belong  to  the  now  are  very  gener- 
ally made  to  depend  upon  a  light  which  the  hereafter 
throws  upon  them,  for  the  manifestation  of  their  true  char- 
acter. The  thing  done  in  the  now,  almost  always  projects 
itself  in  the  hereafter.  As  it  appears  in  the  now,  it  is  the 
seed  deposited  in  the  ground.     The  observer  who    from    the 


142  A    PASTORS    VALEDICTORY. 

inspection  of  that  process  should  undertake  to  give  a  de- 
scription of  tlie  act  of  the  farmer  would  represent  that  act 
in  a  most  incomplete  and  insignificant  form.  He  must  wait 
till  the  hereafter  discloses  the  results  of  the  plautiug  of 
that  seed,  before  he  can  adequately  describe  the  farmer's 
act.  It  is  a  common  remark  that  history  needs  to  be  writ- 
ten by  one  who  lives  at  a  .day  posterior  to  the  period  of 
which  he  writes.  To  see  things  truthfully,  on  many  ac- 
counts we  must  look  back,  we  must  have  changed  our  point 
of  view  from  the  now  to  the  hereafter.  This  rule  holds  good 
in  an  especial  sense  of  the  doings  of  God,  with  whom  a 
thousand  years  are  as  one  day;  and  who  sees  the  end  from 
the  beginning.  To  judge  of  these  as  they  appear  in  the  now 
IS  to  judge  of  them  through  an  imperfect  medium.  We 
must  wait  till  they  have  gone  through  their  process  of  ger- 
mination; till  the  sowing  time  has  matured  into  the  harvest 
time.  "What  I  do  thou  knowest  not  now,"  he  says,  be- 
cause the  indications  of  the  now  are  unable  to  convey  an 
accurate  impression  of  the  real  nature  and  bearings,  not 
merely  because  God's  doings  necessarily  transcend  our  know- 
ing, but  because,  at  the  moment  when  they  are  first  thrown 
before  our  eyes,  they  are  not  perfect.  They  have  to  grow 
and  branch  themselves  out  in  the  future,  and  show  their 
fruitage  after  many  days.  God  takes  time  if  I  may  so  ex- 
press it;  waits  through  a  series  of  seasons  in  the  execution 
of  his  plans.  And  he  who  would  judge  of  them  intelli 
gently,  must  take  time  too,  and  wait  till  he  can  connect 
the  issues  of  the  future  with  the  phenomena  of  the  present. 
But  beyond  the  reminder  that  these  phenomena  of  the 
present  give  us  an  imperfect  basis  upon  which  to  found  a 
judgment  concerning  the  doings  of  God,  the  text  contains  in 
it,  a  promise,  or  an  assurance  that  the  questions  of  the 
mind  which  cannot  be  answered  now.  will  be  answered  here- 
after.      "Though    thou    knowest    not    now,    what  I  do,   thou 


INCOMPREHENSIBLE    THINGS.  143 

shalt  know  hereafter."  It  is  implied  here  that  the  thing 
can  be  exphiined.  It  has  a  meaning  and  a  use.  It  fills 
an  orderl}'  place  in  the  policy  of  Grod,  and  can  be  made  to 
appear  just  as  wise  and  just  as  right  as  that  policy  must 
be  assumed  to  be.  Though  at  present  it  looks  incoherent 
and  chaotic,  and  we  can  only  say  hopelessly  "we  cannot  un- 
derstand it,"  we  can  comfort  ourselves  with  the  thought 
"there  is  nevertheless,  a  sense  in  it,"  and  the  obstruction 
which  prevents  us  from  seeing  it,  belongs  to  the  fact  of 
the  period  at  which  we  look  at  it,  and  may  pass  away  with 
that  period.  The  antiquarian  gazing  upon  the  inscriptions 
and  hieroglyphics  preserved  on  the  walls  of  the  exhumed 
palaces  of  Nineveh,  is  unable  to  explain  them.  But  he  is 
satisfied  that  there  is  significance  in  them.  There  is  a  key 
which  can  unlock  the  mysteries  they  enclose,  and  he  waits 
for  the  disclosure  of  that  key.  It  is  hidden  somewhere,  and 
he  expects  it  to  come  to  light.  To-day  does  not  possess 
it,  but  to-morrow  may.  This  generation  may  not  find  it,  but 
the  next  one  may.  He  is  sure  the  world  will  have  the  ben- 
efit yet  of  the  history  which  lies  locked  up  in  those  legends 
of  a  forgotten  tongue.  So  God's  doings  may  appear  to  us 
illegible  inscriptions,  insolvabie  hieroglyphics;  but  as  they 
come  from  his  hand,  we  know  they  are  products  of  mind, 
and  of  a  mind  that  never  utters  anything  unworthy  of  it- 
self; and  we  may  be  sure  the  key  to  them  is  hidden  some- 
where, is  held,  in  fact,  in  the  same  hand  which  traced  the 
record.  And  should  we,  who  have  to  gaze  in  blind  ignor- 
ance at  that  record,  never  get  the  key,  we  can  encourage 
our  hearts  to  be  patient  in  their  ignorance,  by  the  reflection 
that  the  key  exists.  But  as  I  have  intimated,  we  are 
allowed  to  entertain  the  hope,  the  assurance  indeed,  that  the 
key  will  not  alwa3's  be  wanting.  The  revelations  of  the 
hereafter  may  strip  the  book  of  God's  Providence  of  that 
cryptic  character,   which  it  bears,   as  seen  through   the    limi- 


144  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

tations  and  obliquities  of  the  now.  Nay,  our  Saviour's 
words,  if  we  may  take  them  as  enunciations  of  a  general 
truth,  affirm  that  they  will.  "Hereafter  thou  shalt  know 
what  now  thou  dost  not  and  cannot  know."  We  might 
almost  have  affirmed  this  to  ourselves,  in  advance  of  the 
Saviour's  words;  for  reason  teaches  us  that  every  act  of  a 
rational  agent  has  a  meaning  in  it,  and  that  its  value  de- 
pends upon  its  meaning  being  manifested.  The  concealment 
of  its  meaning  cannot  be  the  ultimate  design  of  the  doer 
of  it,  for  in  that  case,  he  would  aim  virtually  to  undo  what 
he  was  doing,  to  make  of  none  effect  the  thing  he  was 
effecting.  Concealment  must  necessaril}'  he  subordinate  to 
something  else,  and  must  be  expected  therefore,  to  present 
only  a  temporary  phase  of  the  thing  done.  The  thing  which 
God  does,  which  I  do  not  know,  I  may  confidently  promise 
myself,   I  shall  know  hereafter,   on  this  ground. 

But  a  better  ground  for  the  same  conclusions  may  be 
found  in  the  definite  teachings  of  Scripture.  The  probability 
is,  that  our  Saviour  meant  to  affirm  it  in  the  remark  he 
made  to  Peter.  The  apostle  Paul  certainly  affirms  it,  when 
he  says  in  his  first  epistle  to  the  Corinthians  "we  know  in 
part,  and  we  prophesy  in  part;  but  when  that  which  is  per- 
fect is  come,  that  is  in  a  future  state  of  perfect  being  and 
development,  then  that  which  is  in  part  shall  be  done  away. 
For  now  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  but  then  face  to 
face;  now  I  know  in  part  but  then  I  shall  know  even  as 
also  I  am  known."  The  hereafter  which  lies  before  God 
and  us,  in  which  he  may  open  to  our  understanding  the 
dark  things  of  his  providence,  is  a  long  one,  my  friends, 
and  if  the  opportunity  for  doing  this,  is  not  found  on  this 
side  the  grave,  there  is  ample  space  for  it  to  present  itself 
in,  on  the  other.  Sometime  and  somewhere,  the  result  is 
to  be  demonstrated,  that  "all  things  work  together,  for  good 
to  them  that  love  God;"  all  things,    these  things  which,  now 


INCOMPREHENSIBLE    THINGS.  145 

we  know  not,  as  well  as  others,  and  when  that  time  and 
place  are  reached  whether  on  earth  or  in  heaven,  there  is  no 
doubt,  that  the  problems  which  have  distressed,  and  perhaps 
exasperated  us,  at  the  moment  or  throughout  life,  will  all 
be  made  clear,  and  the  hard  ways  of  God  will  be  found  to 
have  been  always  soft  and  kind. 

And  now  if  anything  further  is  needed,  in  order  to  per- 
suade the  tried  and  tempted  sufferer  to  with-hold  the  judgment 
which  would  impugn  the  wisdom  or  goodness  of  God,  it 
may  be  found  perhaps  in  these  few  supplementary  thoughts. 
Consider  I  would  say  to  him,  that  this  attitude  of  waiting 
upon  God,  of  holding  on  to  him  in  trust,  where  you  cannot 
follow  him  in  intelligence,  is  capable  of  serving  a  most  im- 
portant purpose  as  a  part  of  your  spiritual  tuition.  Your 
soul  has  probably  never  got  into  such  near  contact  and 
communion  with  God,  as  it  reaches  when  standing  in  that 
attitude.  You  are  cleaving  to  God,  then  personally  and  for 
his  own  sake.  Y^ou  have  clasped  him  then  in  the  em- 
brace of  your  spirit,  directly,  not  through  the  medium 
of  signs  and  symbols,  not  by  the  aid  of  things,  through 
which  you  have  apprehended  him,  but  rather,  in  spite  of 
things,  for  things  here  have  been  throwing  obstacles  be- 
tween you  and  him,  were  not  giving  you  knowledge,  but 
plunging  you  into  doubt  and  confusion.  Not  through  their 
help  then,  but  in  the  face  of  them,  and  by  an  effort  which 
overleaps  them,  you  have  found  your  way  to  the  great 
centre  and  support  of  all  stability  and  order  in  the  world, 
or  in  the  human  soul.  You  have  pressed  through  the  ranks 
of  ordinary  interpreters,  through  whom  you  have  been  wont 
to  be  introduced  to  God,  for  these  interpreters  in  the  pre- 
sent juncture  have  grown  dumb,  and  thrown  yourself  right 
at  the  footstool  of  God,  crying  out,  "be  Thou  the  interpre- 
ter of  Thyself  to  me.  As  such  I  acknowledge,  I  adopt  thee." 
The  intercourse  with  him,   to  which  you  are  admitted  at  such 


146  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

moments,  is  as  precious  as  that  eujoyed  by  Moses  on  the 
mount,  and  as  the  result,  though  darkness  may  still  lie  over 
the  providence  3'ou  cannot  solve;  there  will  be  a  light  left 
upon  your  soul,  and  perhaps  upon  your  face  too,  which 
others  may  take  cognizance  of,  which  will  attest  you  have 
gained  largely  in  grace,  though  you  have  gained  nothing  in 
knowledge.  And  considering  that  such  may  be  the  result 
of  the  occasions  for  such  intercourse,  it  may  be  well  for 
God  to  send  them,  and  well  for  you  to  avail  yourself  of 
them.  The  darkness  which  has  been  the  effect  to  make  us 
lean  directly  and  simply  upon  (jod,  may  be  after  all  the 
best  sort  of  light  to  us. 

Consider  again,  that  in  consenting  to  this  ignorance  in 
which  you  find  yourself,  in  respect  to  the  doings  of  God, 
you  are  not  required  abjectly  to  accept  the  degradation  which 
accompanies  ignorance.  You  do  not  have  to  take  the  place 
of  the  man  without  eyes.  It  is  that  only  of  the  man  who 
has  eyes,  but  is  for  the  time  being  in  the  dark.  The  dif- 
ference between  the  two  conditions  is  immense.  It  would 
be  a  monstrous  outrage  to  ask  you  to  consent  to  undergo 
the  mutilation  of  having  your  eyes  put  out.  It  is  often  the 
proposition  of  kindness  that  requires  you  to  consent  to  re- 
main temporarily  in  a  darkened  chamber.  Your  very  re- 
tention of  the  powers  of  seeing  may  depend  upon  your  com- 
pliance with  the  proposition.  Your  abiding  in  your  ignor- 
ance under  God's  dealings  with  you,  is  only  thus  a  tempo- 
rary confinement  in  a  dark  chamber.  You  endure  it  in  hope. 
"A  few  days  or  weeks,"  you  may  say  to  yourself,  "have 
only  to  pass,  and  then  I  shall  see;  and  have  perhaps  an  eye 
all  the  healthier  for  the  brief  deprivation  of  sight  to  which 
I  have  submitted. 

And  then  once  more,  consider,  that  knowledge  when  it 
does  come  will  have  a  value  and  a  sweetness  infinitely  en- 
hanced   by    its    contrast    with   that    ignorance    of  which  you 


INCOMPREHENSIBLE    THINGS.  147 

have  bad  such  a  bitter  experience.  You  liave  often  in  life 
had  occasion  to  feel  how  pleasant  it  is  to  say  "I  know  after 
being  obliged  for  a  long  time  to  say  "  I  do  not  know,"  in 
regard  to  something  which  interests  you.  Especially  if  there 
has  been  a  misunderstanding  between  you  and  a  friend;  if 
some  act  of  his  looks  to  vou  enexplicable  upon  any  ground 
appropriate  to  the  footing  upon  which  you  have  stood  to 
each  other;  and  you  have  had  to  feel  coldly  and  distrust- 
fully towards  him;  and  the  mystery  has  been  cleared  uj), 
until  you  could  say,  •'!  know  it  now,  I  understand,  I  ap- 
prove of  it  entirely,"  what  a  thrill  of  joy  has  followed  the 
discovery.  Our  conception  of  the  blessedness  of  heaven  is 
founded  very  much  upon  the  contrasts  we  can  see,  it  must 
present  to  our  condition  on  earth.  And  if  in  heaven  you 
are  permitted  to  say,  as  beyond  a  doubt  you  will  be,  if  not 
before,  of  the  dark  and  trying  doings  of  God  which  have 
obtruded  themselves  into  your  history,  "I  know  them  all 
now,  all  is  clear,  all  has  been  right  and  wise  and  good." 
will  not  the  brightness  of  that  bright  world  grow  immeas- 
urably brighter  by  the  vanishing  of  the  cloud  which  3'our 
previous  ignorance  had  wrapped  about  your  spirit?  Oh, 
blessed  contrast  to  the  mist  and  haze  which  envelopes  us 
here,  which  blind  our  eyes  with  tears  and  choke  our  hearts 
with  doubts,  as  we  grope  along  our  way.  Will  it  not  be 
much  of  heaven's  joy  to  realize  it?  Be  patient,  then  beloved 
and  wait  for  the  manifestation  of  the  sons  of  God,  the  mani- 
festation which  God  will  make  of  himself  as  a  Father  to 
the  children  of  his  love!  Endure  the  weeping  of  the  night 
for  joy  cometh  in  the  morning!  You  will  praise  God  yet,  for 
all  that  he  has  done  that  you  know  not!  Praise  him  then 
now,  l)ecause  jou  know  this!  And  so  the  hereafter  may 
give  something  of  its  light  to  cheer  the  darkness  of  the  now, 
and  to  enable  you  to  say  to  God  "thy  will  be  done"  when 
that  will    is  saying  to  you,    "what  I  do  thou  knowest  not." 


THE  SHUNAMMITE'S  REPLY. 

AUGUST  13,  1865. 


"And  he  said  to  Gehazi,  his  servant.  Call  the  Shunammite.  And 
when  he  had  called  her,  she  stood  before  him.  And  he  said  unto 
him,  Say  now  unto  her,  Behold  thou  hast  been  careful  for  us 
with  all  this  care:  what  is  to  be  done  for  thee?  wouldst  thou  be 
spoken  for  to  the  king,  or  to  the  captain  of  the  host?  And  she 
answered,  I  dwell  among  mine  own  people." — II.  Kings  4:13.13. 


THIS  reply  of  the  woman  of  Shunem  to  the  prophet 
Elisha's  proposition,  was  as  wise  as  it  was  beautiful. 
It  is  worthy  to  stand  side  by  side  with  the  best 
apolhegras  of  the  Grecian  philosophers.  Diogenes  has  made 
himself  famous  by  that  curt  rejoinder,  "Get  out  of  my 
sunshine, "  made  to  Alexander  the  Great,  when  he  asked 
him  if  there  was  anything  in  which  he  could  gratify  or 
oblige  him ;  but  it  is  questionable  whether  this  reply  of  the 
woman  of  Shunem  is  not  an  intellectual  gem  of  finer  quali- 
ty than  that.  If  it  has  not  so  much  of  brilliant  sparkle,  it 
has  more  of  solid  lustre.  It  has  less  of  pretension  to  de- 
form it,  and  more  of  truthfulness  to  commend  it.  Coming 
from  the  source  from  which  it  does,  it  proves  that  there 
are  more  philosophers  in  the  world  than  the  world  ac- 
knowledges; that  the  village  matron,  obeying  her  pure  in- 
stincts, taught  by  her  sober  common  sense,  and  above  all 
guided  in  discernment  and  discrimination  by  a  truly  re- 
ligious faith,  can  act  under  the  inspiration  of  a  wisdom  as 
genuine  and  as  profound  as  that  which  wears  the  academic 
gown,    or   dogmatizes  in    learned   halls.     There    are    philoso- 

148 


THE    SIIUNAMMITE's    REPLY.  149 

pliers  in  the  world  who  know  nothing  of  philosophy,  in  the 
technical  sense  of  the  term;  teachers  all  untaught  them- 
selves iu  the  mysteries  of  dialectic  art;  uttering  their  ora- 
cles and  establishing  their  canons  without  the  prestige  of  a 
diploma;  and  yet,  in  their  noiseless  and  unnoticed  way, 
carrying  the  elements  of  life  and  health  through  society  as 
the  blood  does  through  tlie  physical  frame.  These  philoso- 
phers and  teachers  are  found  perhaps,  most  frequently, 
among  the  female  sex,  of  whom  it  has  been  said,  they  dis- 
cover truth  by  intuition,  rather  than  by  argumentation. 
The  probability  is,  that  their  simpler,  more  tranquil  and 
more  confidiog  nature  leads  them  to  eschew  those  heats  of 
controversy  and  those  entanglements  of  disputation,  in  which 
men  are  apt  to  be  involved,  so  that  their  minds  more  hon- 
estly seek  for  truth,  more  directly  march  up  to  it,  and 
more  resolutely  grasp  it,  when  they  have  reached  it.  How- 
ever, this  may  be,  it  will  occur  to  everyone,  I  presume, 
that  the  reply  made  by  the  woman  of  Shunem,  to  the 
prophet,  was  one  eminently  fitted  to  come  from  a  woman's 
lips.  The  matter  of  it,  and  the  style  of  it,  both,  have  a 
subtle  quality  about  them,  which  seems  to  accord  with  such 
a  course.  A  man  in  her  position  would  hardly  have  made 
such  a  reply;  or  if  he  did,  would  almost  certainly  have  put 
it  iu  a  different  form.  It  required  a  woman's  tact  to  make 
an  argument  without  using  a  single  logical  step  to  unlock 
a  problem,  without  going  through  the  process  of  turning  the 
key.  "What  is  to  be  done  for  thee?"  said  the  prophet. 
"Wouldcst  thou  be  spoken  for  to  the  king,  or  to  the  cap- 
tain of  the  host?"  "I  dwell  among  mine  own  people,"'  is 
her  answer.  Perhaps  if  she  had  been  required  to  explain 
philosophically  why  such  a  fact  constituted  a  pertinent  and 
final  answer  to  the  prophet's  proposition;  why  it  demon- 
strated that  she  had  no  need  of  the  favors  he  had  to  be- 
stow,  and  no  occasion  to  be  introduced  to  the  patronage  of 


150  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

the  king  or  the  captain  of  the  liost,  she  couhl  not  have 
done  it.  But  the  fact,  nevertheless,  to  her  own  mind  did 
seem  to  involve  just  these  results,  and  apparently,  it  seem- 
ed so  to  the  prophet  too,  for  we  licar  no  more  of  his 
proposition.  "t  dwell  among  mine  own  people,"  he  accepts 
as  a  conclusive  intimation  that  it  lay  not  within  the  power 
of  any  service  he  had  to  perform  for  her,  to  make  her  lot 
in  life,  a  more  satisfactor}'  one.  The  philosophical  connec- 
tion between  the  fact  so  allirmed  and  the  results  i)redicated 
upon  it,  it  would  be  interesting  to  develop,  but  that  is  not 
my  object  on  the  present  occasion.  I  wish  rather  to  found 
a  train  of  religious  reflection  upon  the  single  principle, 
which,  this  fact,  viewed  in  connection  with  these  results, 
obviously  and  prominently  illustrates,  namely,  that  na- 
ture, in  whatever  system  of  life  man  has  chosen  to  adopt, 
has  made  association  with  one's  own  people  a  main  condi- 
tion of  development  and  perfection.  Evidently,  isolation 
and  seclusion  are  not  the  normal  states  of  man.  He  is  not 
placed  in  the  world,  like  the  icicle,  to  hang  cold  and  rigid 
under  the  eaves  of  a  house;  but  comes  into  it,  like  the 
raindrop  falling  from  the  cloud,  which  is  destined  to  blend 
with  and  melt  into  its  fellows.  The  Shunammite  dwelt  not 
alone;  otherwise,  Elisha's  question,  "what  shall  be  done  for 
thee,"  would  have  suggested  a  definite  request.  "Give  me 
the  light  of  loving  faces;  give  me  communion  with  sympa- 
thizing hearts;  give  me  an  outlet  to  this  pent-up  and  stag- 
nant life,  by  letting  it  go  forth  and  mingle  in  the  currents 
of  the  general  life  of  a  people  whom  I  call  my  own," 
would  have  been  her  reply.  For  the  want  of  these  consti- 
tutes a  fundamental  defect  in  the  condition  of  any  person 
and  precludes  the  possibility  of  contentment  in  any  well 
organized  mind.  The  association,  contemplated  by  this 
principle  of  which  I  am  speaking,  it  needs  to  be  observed, 
is  something  different  from,   and    more  specific  than  a  mere 


THE    SHUNAMMITE'S    REPLY.  151 

herding  witb  ones  kind;  it  is  a  dwelling  witlf  ones  owr 
people,  a  permanent,  homelike,  identification  with  those  who 
belong  to  you.  It  is  in  this  feature  of  it,  that  the  whole 
emphasis  of  the  Shunainmite's  declaration  resides.  She  might 
have  dwelt  in  a  comnumit}'  from  which,  it  would  have  been 
infinite  relief  to  be  separatetl.  A  simple  conjunction  of 
bodies  does  not  make  the  association  which  nature  requires. 
External  juxtaposition  may  have  brought  you  in  contact 
with  those  between  whom  and  yourself,  there  is  no  internal 
accordance,  and  then,  association  becomes  the  worst  sort  of 
segregation,  or  severance;  because,  it  is  one.  of  wbich  you 
are  always  made  conscious;  one  which,  by  postive  signs,  is 
always  pressing  upon  your  notice.  Never  are  you  more 
trul}"^  and  painfully  alone  than  when  in  perpetual  intercourse 
with  those  with  whom  you  are  not  at  one.  Hence  the  law 
of  nature,  which  forbids  man  to  be  a  solitary  being,  not 
only  requires  him  to  associate  himself  with  his  fellow,  but 
requires  him  to  associate  with  his  like.  Even  our  common 
language  indicates  this,  by  making  the  verb  "like,"  to  a  great 
extent  synonymous  with  the  verb  "love."  Our  loving  and  our 
liking  are  one  and  the  same  thing.  And  as  we  can  truly 
associate  only  where  we  love,  we  associate  where  we  like, 
or  where  we  harmonize  with  and  resemble  that  with  which 
we  associate  Between  unlikes  there  can  be  no  association; 
because  between  unlikes,  there  can  be  no  liking.  Liking, 
or  a  standing  towards  one  another  in  the  relation  of  likes, 
is  essential  to  all  true  association  amongst  men.  When 
the}^  dwell  together,  this  will  always  be  found  as  the  bond 
of  that  union.  Not  that  there  might  not  be  differences  of 
manifold  kinds,  distinguishing  individuals  in  these  united 
bodies  from  each  other,  but  broader  than  these  ditferences, 
and  overlapping  them  all,  we  may  say,  there  will  be  great 
features  of  correspondence,  great  sympathies  and  harmonies, 
which  hold  them  together   as    with  bands    and    cords.     And 


152  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

ia  such  a  case,  differences,  in  fact  only  serve  to  make  the 
association  more  clear  and  striking.  The  meiuViers  of  a 
faaii]}^  for  instance,  may  be  different  from  one  another  in 
many  respects,  and  yet  there  will  be  certain  capital  points 
in  which  their  likeness  to,  and  their  liking  for,  one  another 
will  appear;  and  the  fact  of  the  maintaining  a  union, 
amidst  all  their  personal  differences  will  only  demonstrate 
more  positively  the  existence  of  these  points. 

And  now  we  may  see  how  aptly  the  nature  of  a  genu- 
ine association  amongst  men  is  expressed  in  the  Shunammite's 
declaration,  "I  dwell  among  mine  own  people."  Tlie  proper 
idea  of  association  is  realized  when  the  parties  to  it,  can 
say  reciprocally,  "we  dwell  among  our  own  people."  Those 
with  whom  they  dw'ell  are  theirs;  they  belong  to  them; 
the}'  are  identified  with  them;  because  of  this  liking  which 
binds  them  together.  Each  individual  finds  himself  repro- 
duced, as  it  were,  in  his  neighbor;  sees  himself  multiplied, 
as  it  were,  in  the  whole  brotherhood  with  which  he  is  as- 
sociated. No  one  can  be  less  a  stranger,  or  an  enemy  to 
himself,  than  himself.  But  the  like  of  himself,  will  be  no 
more  a  stranger,  or  an  enemy  to  him,  than  himself.  The 
like  of  himself,  he  may  be  assured,  will  be  as  truly  allied 
to  his  interests  as  he  is  himself.  Hence  as  he  would  say 
of  himself,  "I  am  mine  own,"  so  he  may  say  of  him.  "he 
is  mine  own."  And  hence,  it  will  follow,  that  the  securi- 
ties for  his  well  being  will  be  extended  in  proportion  to 
the  extent  in  which  he  is  associated  with  these — his  likes. 
A  common  danger  threatening  a  company  on  board  a  ship, 
makes  them  for  the  time  being,  a  company  of  likes;  they 
are  animated  by  one  spirit,  occupied  with  one  intent,  de- 
voted to  one  object;  and  what  is  the  result?  Association 
adds  to  the  security  of  each  by  giving  to  each  the  benefit 
of  the  thought  and  the  effort  of  the  whole.  While  any  one 
of    the    company,   single-handed,   might   be    helpless    in    the 


THE    SHUNAMJIITE'S    REPLY.  153 

presence  of  danger,  encircled  and  identified,  as  be  feels 
himself  witli  the  power  of  the  whole  band,  he  may  be  able 
to  assure  himself  confidently  of  a  triumph  and  deliverance. 
So  this  Slumummite,  taking  in  with  a  glance  of  her  mind, 
the  possible  vicissitudes  which  might  be  comprehended  in 
her  life,  satisfies  herself  that  the  best  guaranty  she  can 
have  for  her  well-being,  the  best  ground  for  security  and 
contentment,  lies  in  the  fact,  that  she  is  dwelling  among 
her  own  people.  So  thoroughly  furnished  and  fortified, 
does  she  feel,  by  this  association,  that  under  the  shelter  of 
it,  she  can  safely  forego  the  advantages  proposed  to  her  in 
the  tempting  prospect  of  being  introduced  to  the  favor  of 
royalty  and  enjoying  the  patronage  of  a  court.  Entrenched 
within  this  kindly  citadel,  which  nature's  wise  hand  had 
built  and  equipped  for  her  protection,  what  need  had  she 
of  the  largesses  of  nobles  or  ot  kings? 

Now  the  first  special  reflection  which  I  wish  to  make 
is,  that  a  principle  which  is  found  to  possess  such  a  value 
and  potency  in  the  economy  of  man's  worldly  life,  may  be 
expected  to  be  introduced  and  put  in  service,  in  the  econ- 
omy of  his  spiritual  life.  The  same  expression,  "I  dwell 
among  mine  own  people,"  which  signified  so  much,  as  used 
by  the  Shunammite,  will  signify  as  mucji,  perhaps  much 
more,  when  used  by  the  Christian.  When  uttered  honestly 
and  heartily,  by  him,  it  will  go  far  towards  proving  that 
he  is  living  spiritually,  as  a  consistent,  orderly,  and  con- 
tented man;  or,  in  other  words,  that  his  religion  is  giving 
him  actually  that  satisfaction  and  independence  which  in 
theor}'  it  undertakes  to  bestow.  To  show  this,  it  will  only 
be  necessary  to  point  out  in  a  few  particulars  what  is  in- 
cluded in  the  sense  of  the  expression,  "I  dwell  among 
mine  own  people,"  as  it  may  be  used  by  the  Christian. 

First,  the  existence  in  the  world  of  a  people  who  are 
the  likes  of  himself,   in  those  points    which  distinguish  him 


154  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

as  a  Cliristian,  is,  of  course,  affirmed  by  it.  We  find  this 
people  referred  to  perpetually,  and  in  a  variety  of  terms  in 
the  Scripture.  God  recognizes  their  existence  in  the  world. 
He  calls  them  specifically,  his  people,  his  church,  as  those 
whom  he  has  separated  from  the  world  and  convoked  or 
called  together  into  an  organic  unity.  They  are  character- 
ized by  a  set  of  well  marked  peculiarities.  They  come 
from  no  special  stock,  have  sprung  from  no  particular  lo- 
cality, get  their  individuality  from  no  merely  outward  in- 
cidence or  condition.  Their  classification  rests  upon  purely 
spiritual  grounds.  They  have  become  a  people,  by  reason 
of  a  common  faith  which  they  entertain;  a  common  ingraft- 
ing into  Christ,  which  they  have  experienced,  and  a  com- 
mon transformation  of  character  and  life,  consequent  there- 
upon. Tn  these  respects  they  are  likes;  and  so  are  fitted 
for,  and  actually  brought  into  association.  This  people  are 
the  "mine  own  people"'  of  the  Christian.  And  when  he 
calls  them  so,  honestly  and  heartily,  he  declares,  in  the 
next  place,  his  identity  with  them  in  their  unlikeness  to 
the  world,  The  necessity  of  being  wholly  on  the  Lord's 
side — of  forsaking  all  to  follow  Christ,  is  recognized  by 
him.  Religion,  with  him,  means  the  giving  up  of  the 
heart  to  God,  and  the  giving  it  up  without  compromise  or 
limitation.  It  makes  his  relation  to  God,  paramount  to  all 
other  relations,  domestic,  social,  or  political.  It  leads  him 
to  adopt  Christ's  definition  of  loyalty  in  his  kingdom,  '-he 
that  loveth  father  or  mother,  houses  or  lands,  home  or 
country,  more  than  me,  is  not  worth}'  of  me."  And  the 
general  tenor  of  his  life  will  show  that  his  adoption  of  it 
is  sincere.  God's  people  are  practically  his  people;  and  he 
is,  practically  one  of  them.  He  draws  the  same  line  of 
separation  around  himself  that  God  has  drawn  around  them. 
Then  in  the  third  place,  his  affections  are  among  them. 
His    likings    unite    him    to    them.      Spite    of    the    personal 


THE    SIIfrNAMMITES    REPLY.  155 

differences  which  may,  in  particular  cases,  sunder  him 
from  them,  there  are  great  vital  bonds  of  concord  which 
keep  him  in  alliance  with  them.  They  and  he,  meet  and 
harmonize,  in  Christ,  their  common  head.  In  proportion  as 
the\'  are  severally  Hive  him,  he  and  they  like  one  another. 
The  differences  are  minor;  their  harmony  is  essential.  He 
could  not  associate  with  those  who  have  no  faith  in  and  no 
love  for  Christ,  thouoh  agreeing  with  them  in  all  other 
points.  He  could  never  say  of  them,  "ihese  are  my  peo- 
ple." There  is  a  gap  here  between  him  and  them,  which  is 
fundamental.  He  can  and  he  must  associate  with  those 
who  do  have  faith  in  and  love  to  Christ,  whatever  superficial 
differences  may  oppose  their  fellowship.  They  are  Christ's, 
and  that  is  the  master  tie,  which  binds  him  to  them,  and 
forces  him  to  say,    "after  all  they  are  my  people." 

And  bieng  thus  associated,  it  follows  in  the  next  place, 
that  his  life  assimilates  itself  to  that  common  life  by  which 
the  body  specifically  is  distinguished.  He  is  exposed  to  the 
same  forces;  surrounded  b}'  the  same  influences  which  give 
them  their  individuality.  He  breathes  their  atmosphere, 
subsists  in  their  element.  Nations,  it  is  well  known,  have 
their  characters,  as  well  as  persons.  Certain  causes  pro- 
duce them,  and  produce  them  so  regularly,  that  the  for- 
eigner who  comes  to  reside  among  a  strange  people,  invari- 
ably catches  their  character.  So  the  dweller  among  God's 
people  will  catch  their  character.  Their  memories,  their 
traditions,  their  usages,  their  beliefs,  their  sentiments,  their 
hopes,  will  all  have  a  plastic  power  to  mould  and  develop 
him  into  the  type  of  being,  which  is  special  to  them.  Holy 
inspirations  from  the  past,  with  its  sainted  dead  speaking 
to  him  3'et  from  their  tombs;  from  the  present,  with 
its  living  examjiles  of  Christ-like  purity  and  devotiou,  and 
its  ever  recurring  tasks  and  tests  of  Christian  principles  and 
affections;  and  from  the  future,    with  its  prospects  of  celes- 


156  A  pastor's  VALE1)ICT0RY. 

tijil  glory  opening  to  the  eye  of  the  soul,  invest  him,  and 
penetrate  him,  and  circulate  tlirough  him  like  life  currents, 
transmuting  by  their  blessed  alchemy  the  carnal  that  is  in 
him  into  the  Spiritual,  and  evolving  into  more  and  more 
distinctness  of  lineament  and  expression  out  of  the  earthly 
that  is  in   him,    the  image  of  the  heavenly. 

And  then  to  dwell  among  them,  is  to  make  com- 
mon cause  with  this  people  in  their  labors;  their 
enterprises;  their  occupations.  It  is  thus,  to  get  the 
exercise,  by  which  the  nature  of  the  Christian  man  is 
trained  and  matured.  Home  has  its  toils  which  it  exacts 
of  its  members.  Country  has  its  services,  sometimes 
to  the  extent  of  periling  life  in  the  fighting  of  its  bat- 
tles, to  deman'd  of  it  citizens.  And  the  performing  of 
these  toils,  and  the  rendering  of  these  services,  gives  in- 
tensity to  those  relationships,  which  identify  the  individual 
with  his  home  and  his  country.  So  the  Christian  becomes 
more  of  a  Christian,  by  the  Christian  work  in  which  he  en- 
gages. His  character  is  rusted  out  by  sloth  and  inaction. 
Hence  he  needs  to  be  stimulated  and  borne  along  by  the 
movements,  in  which  the  vital  energy  of  the  mass  to  which 
he  IS  attached,  employs  itself.  He  needs  to  be  a  co-worker 
with  those  whose  business  it  is  to  work  for  God.  So  be 
will  on  the  one  hand  escape  those  torments  of  conscience 
and  those  suspicions  as  to  the  genuineness  of  his  religion, 
by  which,  his  mind  must  be  thrown  into  perpetual  dis- 
quietude; and  on  the  other,  gain  that  glow  and  fullness  of 
spiritual  health,  which  is  both  peace  to  the  soul,  and  a 
proof  of  the  soundness  of  that  peace. 

And  then,  to  these,  add  this  further  thought,  that  the 
Christian  dwelling  among  his  own  people,  is  dwelling  among 
the  means  and  agencies  through  which  God  has  proposed 
most  directly  to  communicate  with  him.  He  is  dwelling  on 
the  very  ground  where  God    himself    dwells.      "Ye    are    the 


THE    SHUNAMMITE's    REPLY.  157 

temple  of  the  living  God,"  says  the  apostle,  "as  Goil  hatli 
said,  1  will  dwell  in  them  aud  walk  in  them,  and  I  will  be 
their  God,  and  they  shall  be  my  people.'"  Like  the  Bethel, 
where  Jacob  slept  and  where  in  his  dream  he  lay  at  the 
foot  of  a  ladder  whose  top  entered  heaven.  The  Christian's 
dwelling  place,  is  a  common  ground  where  God  aud  the 
soul  meet  and  have  mtercourse.  There  God's  presence  con- 
tinually enfolds  the  soul.  There  God  lives  and  moves,  in 
the  soul's  thought.  There  God  speaks  to  the  soul,  by  mak- 
iug  his  word  articulate  and  eft'ective  truth.  There  God 
ministers  to  the  soul  in  ordinances.  There  he  lifts  the  soul 
to  himself  in  worship.  There  he  infuses  the  light  of  his 
love  into  cloudy  providences,  making  the  dark  look  clear  to 
the  soul,  as  he  did  to  Asaph,  when  amidst. the  disclosures 
of  the  Sauctuar}',  he  studied  the  problem  of  the  prosperity 
of  the  wicked.  There,  by  purpose  and  by  promise,  by 
memorial  aud  by  symbol,  by  consolation  and  b}'  counsel, 
by  the  incidents  of  redemption,  and  b}'  the  procedures  of 
his  Spirit,  he  embraces  the  soul  in  the  arms  of  his  grace; 
draws  it,  as  it  were,  to  his  bosom;  imprints  upon  it  the 
seal  of  sonship  and  heirship,  and  fastens  upon  it  the  im- 
pression of  his  own  character,  as  he  left  the  reflection  of 
his  own  glory,   upon  the  face  of  Moses. 

Now,  let  these  particulars,  without  enumerating  more, 
be  duly  considered,  and  the  inference  may  be  safely  drawn, 
that  where  they  are  found  existing,  there  will  be  found  as 
their  result,  a  state  of  spiritual  satisfaction  and  independence. 
The  Christian  of  whom  they  can  be  affirmed,  may  be  pro- 
nounced a  consistent,  an  orderly  and  a  contented  man.  In 
saying  of  himself,  "I  dwell  among  mine  own  people,"  he 
will  be  making  a  statement,  which  if  true,  will  demonstrate 
bis  condition  to  be  one  which  leaves  little  or  nothing  to  be 
asked  as  a  source  of,  or  security  for  his  well  being.  That 
principle    of    nature    then,   which    the    Shunammite's    reply 


158  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

enunciates,  that  association  with  one's  own  people,  is  a 
main  condition  of  development  and  perfection  in  man,  has 
been  well  taken  notice  of  and  put  into  service  by  God  in 
shaping  his  economy  of  the  spiritual  life  amongst  men. 
Wisely  he  has  gathered  the  sul)jects  of  this  spiritual  life 
together  as  a  people;  and  wisely  he  has  enjoined  it  upon 
them,  to  be  united  and  to  dwell  together  as  brethren  As- 
sociation is  as  necessary  and  as  efficient  in  religion  as  in 
any  other  sphere  in  which  man  is  called  to  act.  His 
nature  demands  it,  as  a  help  to  his  spiritual  as  well  as  his 
temporal  well  being.  As  a  Christian  he  wants  his  own 
people  to  dwell  among;  he  wants  the  society  of  his  likes; 
to  make  for  him  a  home.  The  segregation,  in  any  form, 
of  themselves  into  classes  by  men,  is  apt  to  be  odius  in 
the  eyes  of  the  outside  beholder.  He  is  apt  to  see  in  it, 
only  pretension  or  presumption.  Segregation  in  religion  is 
especially  apt  to  be  scrutinized  unkindly,  and  to  be  ascribed 
to  illiberality.  And  in  a  sort  of  generous  scorn,  as  is  sup. 
posed,  for  an  exclusiveness  founded  on  such  base  motives, 
the  remark  is  not  unfrequently  made,  "I  want  no  church; 
I  can  act  the  (Christian  as  well  out  of  it  as  in  it."  Such 
cavils,  to  say  the  least  of  them,  are  made  in  ignorance. 
Those  who  make  them  overlook  the  fact  that  the  church 
grows  out  of  the  law — as  deep  and  broad  as  nature.  Tho 
Christian,  as  a  particular  type  of  man,  like  man  in  every 
other  type  of  him,  wants  a  people  among  whom  to  dwell; 
needs  them  in  order  to  his  well  being;  that  is,  his  comfort 
and  perfection  as  a  Christian.  The  principle  of  association 
applies  to  him  as  well  as  other  men;  and  as  his  enterprise 
exceeds  in  importance  all  others  in  which  men  can  engage, 
above  all  other  men  he  needs  to  avail  himself  of  its  aid. 
This  God  knew,  when  he  instituted  a  church  in  the  world; 
when  he  gathered  his  children  together  under  a  family  or- 
ganization.     And  every  sincere  and  earnest  Christian  knows 


THE    SHUNAMMITE'S    REPLY.  159 

it;  knows  it,  as  be  kuows  those  new  and  profound  likings 
by  which  he  is  made  a  Christian;  knows  it,  as  he  knows 
the  defects  and  the  desires;  the  infirmities  and  the  aspira- 
tions of  his  own  sonl.  The  philosophy  of  the  Shuuammite 
will  be  carried  into  his  religion;  and  he  will  know  that  he 
is  assuring  himself,  that  all  is  right  in  that  religion,  when 
he  can  say  most  truly  and  most  fervently,  "I  dwell  among 
mine  own  people. "' 

And  now,  I  wish  to  take  this  expression  of  the  woman 
in  the  text  in  a  somewhat  ditfereut  sense  from  that  of  a 
law  under  which  I  have  thus  far  considered  it.  I  wish  to 
take  it  as  the  utterance  of  a  prophecy,  or  the  statement  of 
an  event,  which  is  not  fully  realized  in  the  present,  but  is 
to  be  in  the  future.  If  it  be  a  law,  that  like  must  associ- 
ate with  its  like;  and  if  such  association  between  certain 
given  parties,  is  found  to  be  only  proximate,  at  any  given 
stage,  the  conclusion  seems  to  be  required,  that  at  some  future 
stage,  the  association  will  be  witnessed  in  a  complete  form; 
and  thus  a  law,  with  little  modification,  is  converted  into  a 
prophecy.  On  this  ground,  the  expression,  "I  dwell  among 
mine  own  people,  '  as  uttered  by  the  Christian,  carries  with 
it  the  force  of  a  prophecy.  The  Christian  utters  it  under 
a  deep  conviction  that  in  connection  with  such  an  associa- 
tion only,  will  the  condition  requisite  to  the  perfection  of 
his  being,  be  found.  A  vital  want  of  his  nature  is  enunciated 
in  that  expression.  All  through  life,  men  are  acting  under  the 
pressure  of  a  similar  want.  They  are  trying  to  find. the  com- 
munity where  their  liking  shall  be  satisfied.  They  are 
looking  for  their  own  people — for  that  homogeneous  race; 
that  congenial  fraternity,  in  which  their  life  may  embosom 
itself  in  the  universal  life.  Hence  we  have  the  common 
attachment  to  home,  to  neighborhood,  and  to  our  native 
land.  Hence  the  cosmopolite,  the  man  without  a  dwelling 
place,    is    looked    upon   as    a   melancholy   prodigy.      Still    it 


160  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

must  be  confessed,  that  this  quest  is  never  entirely  successful. 
The  associations  to  which  men  atttain  are  only  proximate — 
never  complete.  The  dwellers  together,  are  not  sufficient 
likes  to  satisfy  the  demands  of  nature;  or  extraneous  causes 
disturb  their  harmony;  or  the  precariousness  of  the  tie 
which  unites  them,  mars  the  contentment  which  association, 
if  known  to  be  permanent,  might  afford  them.  "Pilgrims 
and  strangers,  on  the  earth,"  after  all  the  environments 
of  home  and  neighborly  society  and  country,  is  what  they 
have  to  call  themselves.  Even  the  Christian,  in  his  higher 
sphere,  where  there  is  so  much  that  is  deep  and  sacred  in 
the  relationships  that  enter  into  his  peculiar  association,  has 
to  feel  that  the  association  is  proximate,  rather  than  per- 
fect. His  own  people  as  he  finds  them  here,  fall  short  of 
that  ideal  of  a  community  of  likes,  in  intercourse  with 
which  his  soul  shall  find  absolute  harmony — to  which  his 
cravings  look.  His  dwelling  place  too,  is  more  or  less  a 
scene  of  unrest.  His  likings  are  not  fully  met  by  the  pro- 
visions it  ofl'ers  him.  The  law  which  drives  him  to  a  peo- 
ple of  his  own,  for  perfect  satisfaction,  drives  lam  farther 
than  any  region  he  can  occupy  in  his  present  state. 
And  is  not  that  law  then,  a  premonition  and  a  pledge,  that 
there  is  a  region  in  a  future  state,  where  he  shall  at  last 
find  and  dwell  among  his  own  people?  Will  not  the  Chris- 
tian at  last,  be  perfect,  and  be  the  companion  of  a  race  of 
perfect  Christians?  Will  not  likes,  all  made  complete,  in 
their  complete  likeness  to  Christ,  all  meet  at  last  in  some 
blessed  home?  The  law  which  tells  us,  that  in  associations 
men  are  to  look  for  the  perfection  of  cheir  being,  assures 
us  that  they  will;  and  safer  still,  we  have  the  word  of  God 
for  it  that  they  will.  The  Christian  as  he  emerges  at  last 
into  the  fullness  of  a  spiritual  being,  will  emerge  into  a 
community  where  all  are  of  the  same  stature,  and  mould, 
and  essence,   as  himself.     Perfected  himself,  he  will  behold 


THE    SHUNAMMITES    REPLY.  161 

the  conditions  of  his  perfection  fulfilled  in  the  perfection 
of  all  witb  whom  he  is  associated.  And  when  this  occurs 
he  will  be  in  heaven,  for  where  it  occurs  will  l)e  heaven. 
"At  last,  T  dwell  among  mine  own  people,"  wdl  be  perhaps 
one  of  the  first  expressions,  by  which  the  full  heart  of  the 
glorified  saint  will  try  to  utter  forth  its  satisfaction  when 
it  reaches  heaven.  Yes;  at  last,  believer,  you  shall  know 
what  it  is  to  dwell  among  your  own  people!  You  could 
hardly  call  your  staying  with  them  on  earth,  a  dwelling 
among  them,  for  every  breeze  that  blew  by  and  shook  the 
folds  of  your  tent,  reminded  you  that  you  were  a  way- 
farer camping  on  his  march,  and  not  a  dweller  abiding  in 
his  home;  and  these  your  people  were  not  all  you  desired 
in  your  people.  Harmonies  were  interrupted  too  frequently 
b}'  discords  in  your  intercourse  with  them  to  let  3'our  heart 
be  entirely  content.  Association  with  them  left  you  still 
much  to  long  for.  And  so  it  must  ever  be  now.  Y^ou 
must  say,  • 'I  dwell  among  mine  own  people,"  in  a  miti- 
gated sense.  But  you  will  know  what  it  is  to  say  this  in 
a  full  and  perfect  sense  hereafter;  and  your  saying  it  now, 
if  honestly  and  heartily  said — if  here,  amidst  present  imper- 
fections, God's  people  are  adopted  as  your-  people,  and  you 
truly  dwell  among  them,  you  may  draw  from  your  own 
consciousness  of  these  facts  as  assurance,  that  hereafter 
and  forever,  in  a  heavenly  home,  with  Christ  and  his  per- 
fected household,  you  will  be  permitted  in  a  full  and  per- 
fect sense  to  say,    "I  dwell  among  mine  own  people." 

And  now  there  is  a  converse  to  this  picture,  which 
fidelity  requires  me  to  notice.  Like  seeks  its  like  we  have 
seen.  Like  tends  always  to  dwell  with  its  like.  Character 
calls  for  the  aid  of  association  to  complete  its  development. 
You  may  know  a  man's  character  from  that  of  the  associ- 
ates with  whom  you  find  him.  You  may  know  his  associates 
from  the  character    you    see   him  exhibiting.     Like  finds  its 


162  A    PASTORS    VALEDICTORY. 

way  to  like.  This  is  true  of  the  evil  as  well  as  of  the  good; 
true  of  the  deiiiers  of  Jesus,  as  of  the  followers  of  Jesus. 
All  beings  as  character  classifies  them,  go  to  their  own 
place— to  their  own  people.  This  is  the  result  of  a  law, 
which  is  working  in  all  the  worlds  with  which  man  is  con- 
versant or  connected.  It  is  the  result  of  a  law,  as  definite 
and  as  strong,  as  that  which  rolls  the  avalanche  from  the 
mountain's  brow  to  tiie  plain,  or  that  which  ties  the  planet 
to  the  8un.  As  you  are  associating  yourselves  now,  dear 
friends,  God,  for  it  is  Him  we  mean,  when  we  speak  of 
law  here — God  will  associate  you  forever.  What  you  like, 
and  what  you  are  like,  you  will  dwell  with  forever,  when 
the  consummation  of  all  things  shall  have  come.  Associa- 
tion, with  a  cord  as  irresistible  as  omnipotence,  is  drawing 
you  to  the  final  abode  of  the  enemies  of  God,  if  you  are 
not  now  fhe  friends  of  God;  and  there,  sometime  and 
somewhere,  you  must  find  your  level  and  your  doom;  and 
there,  amidst  that  dismal  companionship,  the  lament  must  be- 
gin which  is  never  to  end,  "I  dwell  among  mine  own  peo- 
ple. " 


THE  LOVE  OF  GOD. 

Al'UlL  5,  1S55. 


"■He  that  loveth  not,   ktioweth  not  God;  for  God  is  Love." — 
I.  John  4:8 


THE  Apostle  makes  use  of  tliis  expression  twice  in  tliis 
cliapter,  once  here  in  tlie  text,  and  again  in  the  IGth 
verse;  and  in  both  instances  his  object  is  not  so  mucli 
to  affirm  a  truth  concerning  (lod,  as  to  sustain  an  exhorta- 
tion addressed  to  the  people  of  God.  He  is  teaching  the 
duty  of  mutual  love  amongst  Cliristians,  and  he  enforces 
his  doctrine  by  this  argument,  that  between  God  and  his 
people  there  subsists  a  communion  so  intimate,  that  it  leads 
to  an  assimilation  in  character  and  conduct  between  the 
parties.  "God  dwells  in  them,"  he  says,  "and  they  in 
him."  so  that  what  he  is,  they,  in  the  nature  of  the  case, 
must  be.  Now,  he  reasons,  "God  is  love;"  and  as  a  con- 
sequence his  people  must  be  love  too.  Were  I  to  make  just 
that  use  of  the  text,  therefore,  which  its  place  in  the  sa- 
cred canon  indicates,  I  should  treat  it  as  one  of  the  terms 
of  syllogism — or  as  one  of  the  links  in  a  chain  of  argu- 
ment; and  its  meaning  and  nature  would  have  to  be  de- 
termined by  its  bearings  upon  the  practical  duty  proposed 
in  the  conclusion,  which  it  was  designed  to  aid  in  enforcing. 
This  is  not  the  use,  however,  which  I  purpose  to  make  of 
it.  It  has  that  about  it  which  makes  it  well  worthy  of  be- 
ing made  a  subject  of  study  by  itself,  apart  from  its  con- 
nection with  anything  else.  It  is  a  proposition  which  is  so 
suggestive  and  so    interesting — it    is    a    link    which    has    so 

1G3 


164  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

much  of  the  golden  ore  of  theological  truth  in  it,  and  so 
much  of  the  polish  and  garnishment  of  heaven's  grace  upon 
it,  that  it  is  almost  impossible  for  the  mind  to  resist  the 
inclination  to  forget  for  a  moment  the  ulterior  docti'ine,  for 
the  sake  of  which  it  is  introduced,  in  order  to  explore  the 
deep  and  precious  signiticance  which  is  embodied  in  itself. 
And  this  is  what  I  propose  to  do.  I  shall  separate  the 
expression,  "God  is  love,"  from  the  context  and  scrutinize 
it,  with  reference  to  its  own  proper  worth  and  import,  as 
an  independent  dogma  of  inspiration. 

We  hnve  then,  God  set  before  us  as  om  subject,  and 
the  thing  affirmed  of  him  is,  that  he  is  love- -a  most  im- 
portant afllrmation  of  a  most  important  subject.  It  is 
not  an  affirmation,  it  will  be  observed,  which  undertakes 
to  aid  us  in  answering  any  of  the  questions  which  a  bold 
or  a  curious  philosophy  is  accustomed  to  ask  as  to  the 
essence  of  God,  or  as  to  what  kind  of  a  being  he  is.  On 
this  point  Scripture  goes  but  a  little  way  towards  meet- 
ing our  inquiries.  It  tells  us,  indeed,  that  "God  is  a 
spirit,''  and  it  requires  us  to  describe  him  as  an  infinite 
spirit,  an  unchangeable  spirit,  and  so  on ;  l)ut  when  it 
has  put  all  these  phrases  in  our  mouths,  and  given  all 
these  formulas  to  our  faith,  we  are  constrained  to  con- 
fess that  it  is  rather  a  knowledge  of  what  God  is  not,  than 
of  what  he  is,  that  we  profess.  But  of'  the  character  of 
God,  which  it  much  more  concerns  us  to  understand,  the 
text  does  give  us  an  intelligible  and  a  satisfactory  intima- 
tion. It  puts  the  expression,  "God  is  love,"  alongside  of 
that  other  expression,  "God  is  a  spirit,"  and  so  relieves  our 
ignorance  as  to  his  essence  by  the  simplicity  of  the  con- 
ception we  are  permitted  to  entertain  as  to  his  character. 
We  may  not  be  able  to  tell  what  God  a  spirit  is,  but  we 
are  able  to  tell  what  the  spirit  of  that  Spirit  is,  for  we 
have  it  indicated  to  us    by  a    word  so  easy    of   comprehen- 


THE    LOVE    OP    GOD.  165 

sion,  so  familiar  and  so  grateful,  as  Love.  Whatever  God 
is  that  we  cannot  understand,  he  is  one  thing  that  we  can 
understand,   and  tliat    is  Love. 

The  form  of  tlie  expression,  "God  is  love,"  requires  us 
to  carry  our  theory  concerning  him  to  this  length,  that  he 
is  always  and  everywhere,  Love.  It  is  impossible  that  he 
should  ever  be  found  in  any  position  where  it  cannot  be 
affirmed  of  him,  lie  is  Love;  for  what  he  is,  is  what  you 
must  find  wherever  you  find  God,  and  God  is  love. 
There  can  never  be  in  him,  therefore,  anything  which  is 
inconsistent  with,  or  adverse  to,  love.  Just  as  when  it  is 
said  by  the  apostle  in  the  first  chapter  of  this  Epistle,  that 
"God  is  light,"  it  is  added,  "in  him  is  no  darkness  at  all," 
because  darkness  in  the  nature  of  things  cannot  co-exist 
with  light.  So,  nothing  that  cannot  co-exist  with  love,  can 
ever  be  affirmed  ot  God.  Otherwise  it  would  cease  to  be 
said  of  him,  that  he  is  love,  as  it  would  cease  to  be  true 
of  him  that  he  is  light  if  it  could  ever  be  affirmed  of  him, 
that  in  him  was  any  darkness  at  all.  Any  theory  or  opin- 
ion, therefore,  that  contravenes  in  any  particular,  the  idea 
that  God,  as  to  his  character,  is  love,  must  be  false.  And 
any  theory  or  opinion  that  comes  short  of  making  him,  in 
every  office  that  he  exercises  and  every  act  that  he  per- 
forms, love,  must  be  defective.  It  is  not  enough  to  say  of 
him,  he  can  love;  he  does  sometimes  love;  or  he  has  some- 
times loved;  for  all  these  things  might  be  said  of  him 
without  there  being  any  necessity  for  concluding  that  he  is 
love.  All  these  things  can  be  said  of  almost  any  man; 
and  yet  it  cannot  be  said  of  any  man,  he  is  love.  God 
differs  from  man  in  this — that  his  nature  is  such  that  he 
does  and  can  do  nothing  which  cannot  be  reconciled  with 
love,  while  man's  nature  is  such  that  he  can  and  does  do 
many  things  which  cannot  be  reconciled  with  love.  Under 
all    the    forms    in    which    God    can    be    contemplated,     the 


166  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

ground-work  of  every  picture  is  tlie  same,  tli.at  is,  Love. 
We  may  discriminate  amongst  his  attributes  and  speak  of 
him,  properly  enough,  as  now  a  God  of  wisdom;  now  a 
God  of  power;  now  a  God  of  justice;  as  a  God  of  good- 
ness; but  it  is  love  that  is  manifesting  itself  in  every  exhi- 
bition of  his  wisdom,  power,  justice  and  goodness.  We 
may  distribute  his  works  into  many  chapters,  but  it  is  still 
love  that  operates  in  every  particular  one  of  his  works. 
Find  God  where  you  will,  it  is  love  that  yoi;  are  bound  to 
recognize — Love  that  you  are   bound   to  adore. 

This  is  the  doctrine  of  the  text.  And  now,  my  first 
remark  concerning  it  is,  that  it  is  a  doctrine  so  vital,  so 
radical,  tliat  we  may  say,  all  true  religion  in  the  world 
stands  or  falls  with  it  For  true  religion  consists  of  such 
affections  and  such  acts,  entertained  and  performed  by  man 
towards  God,  as  can  only  be  called  forth  by  a  being  who 
is  Love.  Let  the  terms  of  the  Bible  be  so  changed  as  to 
read  everywhere,  "God  is  cruelty;"  "God  is  malevolence;" 
"God  is  hatred,"  and  then  let  men  be  required  to  enter- 
tain such  affections  and  perform  such  acts  toward  him  as 
are  implied  in  true  religion,  and  they  would  resent  the  de- 
mand as  an  insult  to  their  feelings,  and  an  outrage  upon 
their  understanding.  True  religion  requires  men  to  love 
God,  to  honor  God,  to  trust  in  God,  to  obey  God,  and  to 
worship  God;  things  which  assume  that  God  is  a  being  who 
is  worthy  of  being  loved,  honored,  trusted  in,  obeyed  and 
worshiped  by  men — things  which  are  put  in  the  category 
of  moral  impossibilities,  the  moment  you  give  credit  to 
such  an  idea  as  that  God  is  cruelty,  malevolence  or  hatred. 
Such  an  idea  would  inevitably  be  followed  by  a  set  of  con- 
sequences which  are  the  very  antipodes  of  those  which  are 
the  product  of  true  religion.  It  would  make  men  fear,  and 
detest,  and  rage  against  God;  not  love,  and  honor,  and 
trust  in,   and    obey,   and  worship    him.     This    has    been    the 


THE    LOVE    OF    GOD.  167 

effect  of  it  universally  in  the  heathen  world;  and  the  onl}' 
religion  which  can  be  said  to  exist  there  (if  religion  it  can 
be  called),  is  therefore  an  oppressive  and  degrading  bondage 
to  superstition.  The  minds  that  cannot  consent  to  this 
have  no  alternative  but  to  fly  for  refuge  to  infidelity,  and 
have  no  religion  at  all.  It  is  the  blessed  mission  of  Chris- 
tianity to  reveal  to  the  world  a  God  who  is  love;  and  thus 
to  lay  the  foundation  of  a  true  religion;  and  the  onl}'  true 
religion  on  earth,  has  accordingly  always  been  found  follow- 
ing in  the  train  of  Christianity;  because  Christianit}'  and 
only  Christianity  presents  to  men  a  God  towards  whom 
they  can  entertain  the  affection  and  perform  the  acts  re- 
quired by  a  true  religion.  The  truth  of  the  doctrine,  con- 
tained in  the  text,  might  therefore  be  argued  by  the  neces- 
sit}'  of  it,  in  order  to  the  existence  of  religion.  The  truth 
of  some  things  may  be  proved  by  the  fact  that  the  mind 
cannot  admit  the  truth  of  the  consequences  which  must  fol- 
low if  those  things  are  admitted  to  be  false.  The  conse- 
quences we  sa}-  are  false.  They  involve  a  violation  of  rea- 
son, or  conscience,  or  the  order  of  nature.  They  create  a 
state  in  which  it  is  not  right,  or  not  safe,  for  men  to  be 
found.  They  cannot,  therefore,  be  submitted  to.  But  it 
they  are  not  submitted  to,  the  principle  or  theory,  out  of 
which  they  have  issued,  cannot  be  retained.  That  must 
have  been  false  which  produced  them.  Thus  a  principle  or 
theory  which  would  lead  to  the  result  of  expelling  the  only 
true  religion  from  the  world,  would  on  this  ground,  be 
demonstrated  to  be  false.  It  must  be  false  unless  the 
state  of  things,  which  we  behold  in  heathen  nations,  is 
more  consistent  with  reason  and  conscience  and  the  order 
of  nature,  than  that  which  we  behold  in  Christian  nations. 
But  to  exclude  from  our  theology  this  doctrine,  that  God 
is  love,  would  lead  to  this  result.  It  would  put  the  Chris- 
tian nation  where  the    heathen    one    now    stands.      It    would 


168  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

substitute  for  the  relijrion  which  tlie  believer  in  the  Bible 
holds,  the  superstition  which  the  ignorunt  Pagan,  or  the  in- 
fidelity which  the  philosophic  one,  now  holds.  Surely  tinth, 
we  argue,  cannot  lie  in  the  direction  of  such  consequences. 
It  must  be  in  the  opposite  direction.  It  must  be  on  the 
side  of  that  doctrine  which  upholds  the  true  religion;  it 
mnst  incorporate  itself  indissolubly  with  the  principle  or 
theory  that  God  is  love.  If  men,  then,  would  not  have  in 
the  world  such  a  state  of  things  as  would  follow  the  ab- 
sence of  all  religion,  or  downright  irreligiou,  they  must 
gather  about  and  cling  to  this  great  central  doctrine  of  the 
true  religion. 

But  in  order  to  do  this,  I  proceed  to  remark,  they  will 
be  obliged  to  gather  about  and  cling  to  the  Bible  as  an  in- 
fallible guide  and  a  supreme  arbiter  in  the  matter  of  re- 
ligion. We  need  the  Bible  to  proclaim  to  us  with  authori- 
ty that  God  is  love.  We  need  a  voice  as  commanding  and 
as  trustworthy  as  that  of  the  parent  is  to  the  little  child — 
a  voice  that  carries  with  it  in  its  very  tone  a  demonstra- 
tion which  stills  the  questionings  of  the  mind,  and  the 
tremblings  of  the  heart,  to  fix  our  faith  firmly  upon  this 
truth.  For  without  the  Bible,  men  could  not  assure  them- 
selves beyond  a  doubt  (so  as  to  have  the  full  benefit  of 
the  conviction),  that  God  is  love.  The  nations  who  have 
not  had  the  Bible  to  give  thesm  their  theology,  as  I  have 
said,  have  universally  failed  to  apprehend  and  embrace  this 
doctrine.  Deriving  their  idea  of  the  Deity  from  other 
sources  they  have  in  the  exercise  of  a  futile  and  ingenious 
superstition  invented  lords  man}^  and  Gods  many;  but  in  all 
their  Pantheon  there  is  not  one  of  whom  it  can  be  said, 
this  being  is  love.  And  in  Christian  lands  those  who  deny 
the  authority  of  the  Bible,  who  will  not  let  their  faith  go 
beyond  the  point  where  the  light  of  nature  leads  it,  are 
found,   generally  at    least,   at    some    time  or   other  question- 


THE    LOVE    OP    GOD.  169 

injj;,  not  to  say  denying,  the  truth  of  the  doctrine.  Abso- 
lute confidence  in  it  can  rest  only  on  the  platform  afforded 
by  the  Bible.  For  there  are,  beyond  all  controversj',  things 
to  be  met  witli  in  the  world,  and  things  occurring  m  the 
experience  of  every  individual,  which  seem  to  indicate  that 
God  is  not  love.  There  are  difficulties,  and  great  ones,  too, 
which  any  mind  must  overleap  before  it  can  reach  comfort- 
ably and  secure!}'  the  conclusion  that  God  is  love.  It  is 
easy  for  men  with  certain  facts  before  them  to  believe  that 
he  can  love,  that  he  has  loved,  that  he  does  love,  but  as  I 
have  remarked,  these  propositions  do  not  express  all  that 
is  meant  by  the  formula,  God  is  love;  and  there  are  other 
facts  wdiich  men  must  look  at,  which  seem  to  put  an  im- 
passable barrier  in  the  way  of  the  mind  that  would  go  on 
to  the  extreme  point  of  the  truth  presented  by  this  for- 
mula. If  God  is  love,  the  querulous  and  sceptical  may 
ask,  why  are  such  and  such  things  to  be  found  in  a  world 
which  he  created  and  which  he  governs?  Why  was  sin 
ever  permitted  to  defile  and  curse  the  earth?  Why  is  suf- 
fering allowed  to  exist?  Why  is  the  human  heart  strung 
with  chords  of  sadness  as  liberall}'  as  with  those  of  joy? 
Why  is  there  a  time  to  weep  and  a  time  to  die,  linked  in- 
dissolubly  to  the  time  to  laugh  and  the  time  to  be  born,  in 
a  man's  history?  Why  does  the  shadow  chase  the  sunbeam 
so  constantly  through  every  scene  of  life?  Why  does  the 
fear  of  loss  mar  forever  the  enjoyment  of  possession?  Wh}^ 
do  the  words,  "till  death  shall  you  part,"  utter  that  sad 
prophecy  of  separation  and  bereavement  in  the  ears  of  hus- 
band and  wife,  even  as  the  vow  of  love  binds  them  heart 
to  heart  at  the  altar?  And  why  does  the  image  of  a  hun- 
dred little  hillocks  in  the  grave  yard  break  across  the 
mother's  vision  as  she  presses  her  first  born  to  her  bosom, 
and  clieck  the  gush  of  her  rapture  with  the  thought,  "my 
child,    too,    may    have    to    fill    an    infant's    tomb?"      These 


170  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

questions  point  to  facts,  whicli  will  be  bard  to  reconcile 
witb  tbe  doctrine,  God  is  love,  by  any  process  whicb  does 
not  call  in  the  aid  of  tbe  positive  authority  of  the  Bible. 
And  this,  I  am  sure,  will  be  the  testimony  of  all  who  have 
been  placed  in  circumstatnces  where  they  have  had  to  test 
the  matter  by  personal  experience.  Perhaps  you  have  tried 
in  your  moments  of  pain  and  grief  to  rest  your  soul,  as 
your  religion  teaches  you  to  do.  upon  the  consoling  convic- 
tion that  God  who  sent  you  your  pain  and  grief,  is  Love. 
And  you  have  searched  out  arguments,  and  you  have  con- 
structed theories,  and  you  have  multiplied  conjectures,  and 
you  have  reasoned  and  reasoned,  till  in  the  endless  mazes 
of  your  reasonings  you  have  felt  yourself  lost;  and  the  re- 
sult of  all  has  been  that  your  mind  has  been  perplexed  and 
aggravated,  rather  than  satisfied  and  comforted  by  the 
effort.  And  then  you  have  let  the  Bible  speak.  You  have 
let  its  authority  come  to  your  assistance.  You  have  con- 
sented to  believe  that  God  is  what  he  is  revealed  to  be 
without  limiting  your  faith  to  what  you  can  pi'ove  him  to 
be;  you  become  the  little  chdd  and  you  have  received  the 
word  of  inspiration  as  the  parent's  voice,  and  you  have 
recognized  in  its  tone  a  right  to  teach  you,  and  a  compe- 
tency to  teach  you,  and  you  have  given  credit  to  its  decla- 
rations, because  of  its  own  character,  and  not  because  of 
any  process  of  demonstration  by  which  your  mind  had 
brought  itself  to  adopt  its  declaration;  and  then,  doubt  has 
subsided,  and  conviction  has  been  established,  and  you 
have  felt  sure  that  God  is  love.  And  knowing  that  the 
author  of  your  pain  and  grief  was  such  a  God,  you  could 
be  still  patient,  resigned,  and  tranquil,  under  his  loving 
hand.  Now,  in  claiming  an  authority  for  the  Bible  in  this 
matter,  T  am  only  claiming  for  it  what  legitimately  belongs 
to  it  as  a  supernatural  source  of  knowledge,  and  what  it 
always  claims  clearly  for  itself.     It  never  refers  to  anything 


THE    LOVE    OP    GOD.  ]  71 

outside  of  itself  a,s  a  standard  by  which  its  communications 
are  to  be  tried  and  estimated.  What  it  says  of  God,  in 
any  particular,  is  fixed  as  truth  by  its  mere  saying  it.  It 
does  not  ask  the  superscription,  the  endorsement  of  the 
person  to  whom  it  speaks  before  it  demands  his  belief. 
He  is  not  the  umpire  before  whom  it  must  plead  and  argue, 
and  whose  judgment  is  needed  to  sustain  and  authenticate 
its  communications,  but  he  is  the  scholar  to  whom  it  is  im- 
parting information,  and  whose  business  it  is  to  take  the 
information  given  with  a  confidence  proportioned  to  the 
merits  of  his  teacher.  The  information  may  often  be  of  a 
kind  so  abstruse  or  so  complicated  that  his  mind  has  no 
capacity  to  exercise  judgment  upon  it;  and  in  such  cases  he 
must  deter  his  own  judgment  to  that  of  his  teacher — he 
must  let  his  mind  follow  the  m  nd  of  his  teacher — he  must 
take  as  truth  what  he  cannot  demonstrate  to  be  truth — be- 
cause he  is  sure  that  in  the  judgment  of  his  teacher's 
mind,  it  can  be  and  has  been  demonstrated  to  be  truth. 
Speaking  thus  authoritatively  then,  the  Bible  tells  us 
God  is  love;  and  the  weight  of  its  authoritative  declaration 
comes  to  turn  the  scale  and  decide  the  controversy  when- 
ever our  minds  are  disposed  to  waver  between  the  evidences 
for  and  those  against  the  doctrine.  We  take  its  decision, 
as  that  which  we  ought  to  form,  and  which  our  minds 
would  be  constrained  to  form  were  they  in  the  position  of 
that  mind  which  speaks  in  the  Bible. 

But  let  me  not  be  misunderstood  in  what  I  am  sajing. 
In  referring  thus  to  the  authority  of  the  Bible,  as  that 
which  is  necessary  in  order  to  assure  our  minds  of  the 
truth  of  the  doctrine  that  God  is  love,  I  am  not  holding 
that  the  authority  of  the  Bible  is  all  the  support  we  can 
find  for  the  doctrine.  Were  this  so,  that  is,  were  the  pos- 
itive dictum  of  the  Bible  all  the  evidence  we  had  of  the 
truth  of  the  doctrine,  or  were  there  nothing  in  what  we  can 


172  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

see  and  leiini  of  God  from  other  quarters  to  correspond 
with  and  confirm  it,  we  should  be  obliged  to  reject  tlie  tes- 
timony' of  tlie  Bible,  not  on  the  ground  that  it  liad  not 
autliority  as  the  word  of  (lod  to  command  our  faitli,  but 
on  t!)e  ground  tlsat  it  could  not  be  the  word  of  God.  If 
in  all  the  circle  of  his  actions  God  never  appeared  as  Love, 
but  alwa3S  as  the  contrary,  we  should  pronounce  the  dic- 
tum of  the  Bible,  that  he  is  Love,  a  falsehood;  and  then 
with  a  falsehood  proved  upon  it,  it  could  not  challenge  our 
confidence  as  an  infallil)le  guide  and  supreme  arbiter  in  the 
matter  of  religion;  and  there  would  be  no  room  left  for  a 
question  as  to  its  authority  over  our  faith.  But  the  Bible 
has  no  such  issue  as  this  to  fear.  It  stands  on  safe  ground 
here.  What  it  alfirms  of  God,  though  its  aflirmation  be 
not  ottered  as  argument,  it  always  represents  God  as  exem- 
plifying in  his  actions.  It  shows  the  fruit  cohering  with 
the  tree.  AVhen  it  says,  (Jod  is  love,  it  admits  and  en- 
courages the  appeal  to  facts.  It  tells  us  we  shall  find  God 
actually  loving,  and  loving  under  such  circumstances  as 
make  it  necessary  to  conclude  that  he  is  love;  and  it  aids 
us  in  tracing  out  and  comprehending  the  exhibitions  of  his 
love.  It  sets  these  before  us  in  such  abundance  and  varie- 
ty that  an  examination  of  them  would  furnish  matter  for  a 
volume  rather  than  a  sermon.  It  draws  the  veil,  for  in- 
stance, from  that  scene  of  being  which  in  the  language  of 
man,  we  call  the  eternity  of  God  prior  to  creation.  Before 
the  appearance  of  the  angels,  those  eldest  born  of  his  chil- 
dren, to  be  objects  of  his  love,  we  have  a  glimpse  or  two, 
an  out-shining  ray  or  two,  of  the  life  of  God.  And  if  we 
may  presume  to  interpret  these,  they  indicate  as  their 
prominent  truth,  that  God  was  then  Love.  The  doctrine 
of  the  Trinity — the  three-fold  personality  of  the  Deity, 
mysterious,  inexplicable  as  it  is  in  most  of  its  aspects,  ob- 
tains at  least  a  sort    of  coherence  with    familiar  and  intelli- 


THE    LOVE    OP    GOD.  173 

gihle  things,  if  we  think  of  it  in  connection  with  this 
truth,  that  Deity  is  Love.  For  the  conditions  of  love,  the 
circumstances  required  for  its  exercise,  to  some  extent,  are 
presented  to  our  view  in  the  union  of  the  three  persons  in 
the  Godhead.  A  Deity  who  is  love,  is  revealed  in  a  fitting 
form,  a  form  adapted  to  the  fact  at  least,  when  he  appears, 
not  in  the  awful  solitude  of  unmitigated  unity,  but  in  the 
fellowship  of  a  co-essential  Trinity.  Such  a  form  of  sub- 
sistence makes  it  possible  to  say  of  God  from  all  eternity 
he  was  Love.  It  gives  occasion  for  the  exercise  of  love, 
of  which  we  read,  when  the  Son,  in  the  days  ot  his  incarna- 
tion, declared,  "thou  Father  Lovedst  me  before  the  founda- 
tion of  the  world;"  and  it  suggests  a  key  to  that  expression  of 
loving  concord  between  coincident  agents,  contained  in  the 
saying  of  the  Creator,  "let  us  make  man  in  our  image, 
after  our  likeness."  Not  to  dwell  upon  this  unfathomable 
theme,  however,  we  may  pass  on  to  those  manifestations 
of  God  which  have  reference  to  the  objects  of  time.  And 
here,  the  existence  of  these  objects  fall  in  with  the  doctrine 
that  God  is  love.  For  love  is  a  productive  principle.  Cre- 
ation is  its  proper  work.  Life  radiating  itself  out  into  other 
forms  of  kindred  life  is  the  ver}^  exercise,  by  which  it 
proves  its  existence.  A  God  who  is  love  is  just  the  God 
who  might  be  expected  sometime  to  api)ear  as  God  the 
Creator.  All  the  acts  of  creative  power  he  may  have  put 
forth  we  know  not.  All  the  beings  whom  in  his  love  he 
has  made  we  cannot  enumerate;  but  we  read  ot  the  angels 
who  dwell  in  his  presence,  and  we  know  of  the  existence  of 
that  lower  race,  for  whose  occupation,  the  world  in  its  Par- 
adisaical state  was  forrOed,  and  who  still  hold  it,  though 
under  conditions  so  sadly  changed.  Spite  of  all  in  man's 
present  position  what  seems  inconsistent  with  love  in  God, 
man's  original  creation,  is  an  act  which  can  be  reconcded 
with    no    other    principle.      And    then    look    at    innumerable 


174  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

things,  which  even  subsequent  to  the  falling  of  the  curse 
upon  our  race,  continue  in  the  system  of  nature  and  under 
the  administration  of  Providence  to  attest  the  fact  that 
God  is  love.  Do  we  not  see  the  tender  parent  yet.  in  the 
Being  who  is  presiding  in  our  world?  Do  we  not  find  that 
sweet,  that  hallowed  phrase,  "our  Father  which  art  in 
heaven,"  in  use  amongst  men,  and  does  it  not  daily  ascend 
from  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  who  feel  in  their 
deepest  hearts,  that  there  is  a  Reality  to  correspond  with 
the  phrase?  And  the  loving  kindnesses  of  the  Lord,  are 
there  not  those  who  still  make  mention  of  these,  as  the 
Prophet  and  the  Psalmist  were  accustomed  to  do?  Would 
hatred  or  cruelty  or  malevolence  have  contrived  such  mani- 
fold arrangements  for  the  preservation  and  support  of  their 
victims,  or  granted  them  such  an  affluence  of  enjoyment  as 
yet  lies  within  the  reach  of  fallen  man?  Would  they  have 
hung  out  this  blue  sky  above  him,  or  decorated  the  green 
earth  beneath  him?  Would  they  have  put  music  and  beauty 
and  knowledge  and  friendship  in  the  world?  Would  they 
have  provided  food  for  hunger,  and  medicine  for  disease, 
and  consolation  for  sorrow?  Would  they  have  kept  hope 
alive  in  the  human  heart,  and  flung  the  rainbow  over  the 
cloud,  promising  a  day  of  emancipation  to  the  sin-burdened 
earth,  a  resurrection  in  glory  to  the  dying  body,  and  an 
eternal  heaven  to  the  sainted  soul?  Oh  no.  The  Bible  has 
facts  to  sustain  it,  patent  and  unimpeachable  as  the  day- 
light, when  it  says  God  is  love.  But  the  great  fact  which 
it  always  puts  in  the  foreground  when  discoursing  upon 
this  theme,  and  which  most  effectively  demonstrates  the 
love  of  God,  is  the  scheme  which  has  been  devised  and 
executed  for  the  redemption  of  mankind.  This  fact  the 
apostle  couples  immediately  with  his  declaration  in  the  text. 
"In  this  was  manifest  the  love  of  God  towards  us,"  he 
says,    "because    that    God    sent  his  only    begotten    Son  into 


THE    LOVE    OP    GOD.  175 

the  world  that  we  might  live  through  hiiu.  •  Herein  is  love, 
not  that  we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us,  and  sent  his 
Son  to  be  the  propitiation  for  our  sins."  The  Bible  is  full 
of  such  passages,  I  need  not  multiply  them.  I  have  said 
the  Bible  does  not  argue  with  men,  when  it  speaks  to  them 
of  God.  It  does  not  admit  that  there  can  be  any  doubt  in 
regard  to  what  it  communicates.  And  surely  I  may  say  it 
takes  ground  infinitely  above  all  necessity  for  arguing  when 
it  records  such  a  fact  as  that  which  these  passages  indi- 
cate. With  that  fact  on  its  pages  argument  would  be  su- 
perfluous— almost  derogatory  to  its  cause.  The  Bible  leaves 
God's  acts  to  confirm  all  it  says  of  his  character.  It  tells 
you  that  God  is  love.  You  may  question  or  deny  the 
dogma.  It  holds  no  debate  with  you.  It  does  not  want 
your  assent.  It  calmly  proceeds  with  its  scroll  of  revela- 
tion, unrolling  vision  after  vision,  until,  lo!  the  Son  of  God 
appears,  descending  to  the  earth  and  taking  man's  nature, 
that  he  may  die  for  man's  sin.  This  is  the  way  the  Bible 
speaks  of  God;  and  this  is  the  way  God  confirms  by  his 
acts  what  it  says  of  him.  And  who  can  doubt  longer  after 
such  a  confirmation?  Could  an3'thing  less  than  the  expres- 
sion God  is  love,  describe  a  Being  who  has  so  loved  the 
world?  Could  redemption  through  the  death  of  the  Son  of 
God  for  a  race  of  sinners  ever  have  emanated  from  the 
heart  of  a  being  of  whom  it  could  be  said,  he  i§  cruelty, 
hatred  or  malevolence?  With  the  cross  of  Christ  before  us, 
-can  we  do  otherwise,  brethren,  than  rise  in  our  conception 
of  God  to  that  sublime  altitude  to  which  the  text  would 
carry  us,   and  say,   of  his  very  nature,    he  is  Love? 

But  it  is  to  the  practical  hearing  ot  this  important 
truth  that  I  wish  now  to  direct  your  attention.  I  have 
said  that  this  doctrine,  God  is  Love,  lies  at  the  basis  of 
all  true  religion,  meaning  theoretical  religion.  I  would  now 
say  it    lies    at  the    base    of    all    true    personal   religion.     If 


176  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

God  is  love,  he  deserves  from  men,  as  bis  reasonable  tri- 
bute, all  the  love  they  can  possibly  exhibit  towards  him. 
"Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and 
all  thy  mind,  and  all  thy  soul,  and  all  thy  strength,"  is 
therefore  the  first  and  greatest  commandment — the  funda- 
mental law  of  piety.  And  if  men  have  not  observed  it, 
they  are  sinners.  They  have  Avronged  God.  Now,  tried  by 
this  text,  there  is  no  man  who  can  escape  conviction  and 
condemnation  as  a  sinner — a  wrongdoer  against  God.  And 
the  question  arises,  what  course  of  treatment  is  a  person  iu 
such  a  position  to  expect  at  the  hands  of  a  God  who  is 
love?  I  answer,  the  love  that  can  consist  with  a  hatred  of 
sin,  and  that  frames  statutes  against  sin,  will  proceed  to 
the  punishment  of  sin.  And  this  is  the  meaning  of  those 
passages  of  Scripture  which  speak  of  God's  anger^  and  ven- 
geance and  wrath.  These  are  terms  borrowed  from  human 
language;  but  they  describe  only  God's  love  going  forth  to 
the  punishment  of  sin.  A  God  who  did  not  punish  sin 
could  not  claim  the  title  of  love.  The  whole  universe 
would  soon  call  him  haired,  and  malevolence  and  cruelty. 
They  fall  into  a  grievous  error  therefore,  who  persuade  them- 
selves that  because  God  is  love  the}'  may  sin  with  impuni- 
ty; or  who  use  such  declarations  as  the  text  as  a  [)Yoot  of 
the  doctrine  of  universal  and  indiscriminate  salvation.  And 
this  is  almost  the  fearfullcst  view  we  can  take  of  the  miser}' 
of  the  wicked  in  their  final  state,  that  they  will  have  forced 
the  love  of  God  to  turn  their  executioner,  and  kindle  the 
flames  of  that  consuming  fire  with  which  they  are  to  be 
destroyed.  But  while  the  doctrine  of  the  text  gives  no  en- 
couragement to  the  incorrigible  sinner  to  hope  for  escape 
from  punishment,  it  does  lay  a  ground  for  the  hope  of 
mercy  in  the  case  of  the  sinner  who  repents.  It  is  just 
because  God  is  love,  that  the  man  who  feels  his  need  of 
mercy  and    wishes    for    it,   is    authorized    to    expect  it.      He 


THE    LOYE    OF    GOD.  177 

has  no  remedy  for  his  evil  eoiulition  in  himself,  no  re- 
sources to  which  he  can  iipply  lor  relief  tmd  deliverance 
independently  of  (iod.  But  when,  with  the  look  of  help- 
less want  he  turos  to  God,  he  finds  him  a  God  of  love; 
a  God  who  has  no  pleasure  in  the  death  of  the  sinner,  but 
wouUl  have  all  men  come  unto  him  and  live.  A  view  of 
the  love  of  God,  therefore,  stands  connected  wilh  that  first 
step  in  personal  relioion — repentance.  If  God  is  not  seen 
to  be  love,  there  can  be  no  repentance,  there  can  be  no 
'turning  of  the  heart  from  sin  to  God,  which  is  necessaay 
to  constitute  repentance;  and  the  bitterest  pang  in  repent- 
ance— that  which  sends  the  iron  of  contrition  deepest  in 
the  soul,  is  the  thought  that  sin  is  seen  now  to  have  been 
committed  against  a  God  who  is  love,  and  who  says  in  his 
tenderness  to  the  sinner,    "30U   may  repent." 

And  then,  the  doctrine  of  the  text  lays  a  foundation 
for  the  justification  of  the  sinner,  through  the  righteousness 
of  Christ  imputed  to  him.  A  Saviour  is  the  unspeakable 
gift  of  God's  love.  That  allows  a  propitiation  for  sin,  the 
inteiveution  of  a  mediator,  salvation  by  faith  where  there 
could  be  none  by  the  works  of  the  principal.  When  the 
sinner  goes  to  Christ,  he  is  placing  himself  within  the  pale 
of  God's  love,  where  there  is  no  more  condemnation  to  him, 
and  from  which  nothing  can  separate  him.  His  security 
that  he  will  not  be  counted  and  treated  as  a  sinner,  is  that 
God  is  love;  and  that  in  his  love,  he  has  reconciled  him  to 
himself  through  Christ  who  was  made  sin  for  him." 

And  then,  lastly,  this  doctrine  secures  to  the  believer 
all  the  control,  and  discipline,  and  assistance,  which  are 
reciuired  to  carry  him  successfully  through  a  course  of  re- 
ligious living.  Love  is  provident,  and  beneficent  towards 
its  objects.  What  they  need  for  their  safet}'  or  welfare  it 
delights  to  bestow.  Christian,  this  is  your  encouragement 
and  your  security — God  is  love.      If  he  were  not,  you  would 


178  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

never  have  been  standing  where  you  are  to-day;  you  would 
never  have  made  such  progress  as  you  already  have  done 
towards  heaven.  He  who  has  begun  a  good  work  in  you 
means  to  carry  it  on  unto  the  end.  You  have  large  re- 
sources in  God,  though  you  have  none  in  yourself.  Love 
is  your  guide;  Love  is  your  guardian;  Love  will  chasten 
you  when  you  need  it;  Love  will  raise  you  when  you  fall; 
Love  will  strengthen  your  weakness;  Love  will  soothe  your 
sorrows;  Love  will  hear  your  prayers;  Love  will  stand  by 
your  dying  beds;  and  Love  will  present  you  at  last  fault- 
less and  complete  before  your  Father's  face.  The  begin- 
ning and  the  ending  of  your  religion,  the  foundation  and 
the  top-stone  of  your  salvation,  are  comprised  in  this  pre- 
cious truth — "God  is  love." 


THE   SAVED   MALEFACTOR. 

JUNE  3,  ISGO. 


"And    Jesus    said    unto    hira,    verily    1    say    unto  thee  to-d.ay 
slialt  tliou  be  with  me  in  Paradise." — Luke  23:48. 


THE  occurrence  described  here  directs  our  attention  in  a 
very  interesting  way,  first,  to  the  source  froru  which 
the  divine  mercy  which  is  concerned  in  the  salvation 
of  man,  proceeds,  and  secondly,  to  the  extent  to  which  its 
efficacy  is  applied,  These  will  be  tbe  topics  which  I  shall 
endeavor  to  illustrate  in  my  remarks  upon  the  text.  Jesus 
upon  the  cross  to  the  dying  malefactor  at  his  side  says, 
"to-day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise."  These  words 
in  any  proper  sense  which  can  be  put  upon  them,  must 
mean  that  this  man  should  be  saved;  that  in  that  eternal 
world  into  which  he  was  passing,  he  should  find  safety  and 
rest.  Without  insisting  that  the  word  paradise  is  precisely 
equivalent  to  heaven,  admitting  that  it  cannot  mean  that 
state  of  perfect  blessedness  into  which  the  righteous  are  to 
be  introduced,  after  the  resurrection  of  the  body,  and  for 
which  this  resurrection  is  a  necessary  preparation,  tbere  can 
be  no  doubt  that  the  word  describes  a  state  that  is  heav- 
enly in  its  kind.  This,  the  import  of  the  term  indicates, 
and  various  other  allusions  in  Scripture  plainly  signify.  No 
one,  upon  a  dying  bed,  could  desire  to  have  a  better  assur- 
ance of  salvation,  than  to  be  informed  upon  divine  author- 
ity that  after  death  he  was  to  be  with  Christ  in  Paradise. 
We  should  be  perverting  language,  therefore,  in  a  most  ar- 
bitrary  way,   not  to  admit  that  this  malefactor  was  a  saved 

179 


180  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

man.  Now  consider  tbe  Saviour.  Look  at  the  person  by 
whom  the  hope  of  life  was  given,  and  the  word  of  life 
spoken,  in  this  interesting  transaction.  Setting  other  cir- 
cumstances aside   for  the  present,   observe: 

First,  that  Jesus  in  speaking  these  words,  is  announcing 
to  the  man  tiie  forgiveness  of  his  sins.  Admission  to  Par- 
adise is  a  privilige  altogether  inconsistent  with  the  existence 
of  guilt  in  the  party  admitted.  The  wnges,  the  due  reconj- 
pense  of  sin,  is  death.  So  long  as  it  is  reckoned  against 
any  one,  it  can  only  expose  him  to  condemnation.  80  long 
as  it  appears  in  a  creature,  and  must  be  dealt  with  by  (Jod 
it  must  be  treated  by  him  as  an  abominal>le  thing  which  he 
hates,  and  which  he  cannot  therefore,  receive  into  his  pres- 
ence. Salvation,  therefore,  always  implies  the  remission  of 
the  sin  of  the  person  saved.  Pardon  is,  iiuleed,  a  part  of 
salvation.  80  that  when  our  Lord  said  to  this  man  "this 
day  slialt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise,"  he  was  saying  to 
him  as  plainly  as  if  he  had  used  the  identical  words,  "this 
day  or  this  moment  th}-  sins  be  forgiven  thee.'"  And  the 
question  arises  immediately  in  view  of  this  fact,  who  is  this 
that  forgiveth  sins?  This  question  the  Jews  had  asked 
more  than  once  in  reference  to  our  Saviour,  and  they  had 
coupled  with  it  the  charge  of  blasphemy;  for  they  had  rea- 
soned rightly  enough  that  none  can  forgive  sins  but  God 
only.  They  understood  that  the  right  to  remit  sin  was  ex- 
clusively a  divine  right;  that  it  is  one  of  the  preroga- 
tives of  the  author  of  the  moral  law  and  the  administra- 
tor of  the  moral  government  of  the  universe;  and  that  the 
exercise  of  this  right  in  any  case,  was  an  act  which  desig- 
nated the  agent  as  a  divine  personage.  As  they  were  not  will- 
ing to  allow  this  character  to  Christ,  they  protested  against  his 
claiming  the  right  to  forgive  sin,  and  called  him  a  blas- 
phemer, a  profaner  of  sacred  things.  But  nevertheless,  in 
full  view  of  the    construction    which    thej^  put  upon  the    act 


THE    SAVED    MALEFACTOR.  ISl 

(wliicli  be  evidently  admits  to  be  correct)  he  proclaimed  the 
fact,  "the  Son  of  man  has  power  on  earth  to  forgive  sin." 
And  here  on  the  cross,  amongst  the  things  which  he  does 
in  the  very  article  of  death,  we  may  say,  we  see  him  re- 
voking the  gnilt  of  this  malefactor,  and  declaring  to  him 
that  he  shall  enter  eternity  a  pardoned  man.  Who  is  this 
that  forgiveth  sin?  Again  we  ask.  Who,  but  God  himself? 
Who,  but  one  wlio  conld  have  described  himself  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Jehovah,  "I,  even  I,  am  he  that  blotteth  out  th}' 
trangressions?"  And  who  could  say  of  himself,  "I  and 
the  Father  ai'e    one?'' 

Observe  again  tliat  in  using  these  words  "this  day  shalt 
thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise,"  our  Lord  is  predicating  of 
this  man  an  inward  personal  change  b}'  which  he  was  qual- 
ified for  the  state  into  which  he  was  to  be  introduced. 
That  some  qualification  was  necessary  is  evident.  "With- 
out holiness  no  man  shall  see  the  Lord."  "Except  a  man 
be  born  again  he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God."  "The 
unclean  cannot  enter  Paradise"  for,  "There  shall  in  no 
wise  enter  into  it  anything  that  defileth,  neither  wdiatsoever 
worketli  abomination  or  maketh  a  lie."  Christ  can  have  no 
fellowship  with  Belial.  If  this  malefactor  was  to  be  that 
day  with  Christ  in  Paradise,  obviously  he  must  become  a 
renewed  being.  The  old  man  and  corrupt  nature  must  be 
put  off;  the  tlesh  must  become  spirit;  the  Kthiopian  must 
change  his  skin;  the  child  of  the  Devil  must  be  traiiformed 
into  the  child  of  God.  And  just  such  an  internal  change 
must  have  been  implied  in  the  event  which  the  Saviors's 
words  made  certain,  that  he  was  to  be  admitted  to 
Paradise.  You  see  then  in  this  trantaction  another  exercise 
of  divine  power.  Who  can  know  the  heart,  who  can  cleanse 
it,  who  can  convert  it;  but  God?  This  changing  of  the  nature 
by  which  men  are  prepared  for  heaven  is  represented  in 
Scripture  as  a  creative  act,   so  that  the  subject  of  it  is  said 


182  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

to  be  a  new  creature.  It  is  the  province  of  God  alone  to 
effect  it;  and  wliea  Clirist  appears  definitely  determining  the 
destiny  of  this  dying  thief,  as  an  heir  of  Paradise,  he  ap- 
pears in  the  exercise  of  a  power,  which  no  one  but  (Jod 
could  claim  to  possess. 

Then  once  more  observe  that  he  speaks  in  the  language 
of  one  who  holds  the  keys  of  the  eternal  world,  and  de- 
cides with  imperial  authority  upon  the  doom  of  man.  "This 
day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise."  Who  can  claim 
jurisdiction  over  the  realm  of  the  disembodied  spirits,  who 
can  open  the  chambers  of  heaven  and  hell,  who  can  give 
the  title  that  admits  to  the  one,  or  issue  the  warrant  that 
confines  in  the  other,  but  God?  Just  here  perhaps,  lies  the 
most  sacred  function  and  right  of  the  divine  majesty.  Just 
here  is  the  spot  where  encroachment  or  ursurpation  could 
be  least  tolerated.  The  administration  of  justice,  the  appli- 
cation of  law,  the  decision  of  questions  touching  the  stand- 
ing, the  desert,  the  destiny  of  the  subject  under  the 
government  of  his  Maker,  these  things  are  acts  which  God 
cannot  put  out  of  his  own  hands.  The  balance  of  judg- 
ment, equally  with  the  sceptre  of  sovereignty,  is  something 
which  he  must  keep  inviolable.  The  award  that  assigns 
heaven  to  any  departing  soul  must  be  the  decree  of  his  own 
tribunal,  and  the  utterances  of  his  own  lips.  Who  then  but 
God  could  have  pronounced  these  words  "this  day  shalt  thou 
be  with  me  in   Paradise." 

Now  the  conclusion  to  which  we  are  brought  by  these 
considerations  drawn  from  the  nature  of  the  act  is  that  the 
agent,  in  the  transaction  before  us,  was  a  divine  being.  The 
Savior,  concerning  whom  we  are  inquiring,  was  God.  But 
there  are  other  features  in  the  incident  to  be  noticed.  In 
connection  with  all  these  facts,  which  demonstrate  that  the 
Savior  of  the  malefactor  was  God,  there  are  other  facts 
which  demonstrate,  no  less  conclusively,    that  he  was    man. 


THE    SAVED    MALEFACTOR.  183 

What  do  your  senses  tell  you  of  him?  That  he  is  a  suf- 
ferer; that  he  has  a  body  which  can  feel  pain;  that  he  is 
now  enduring  the  agony  of  the  cross;  that  human  blood  is 
trickling  from  the  brow  which  the  thorns  have  pierced;  and 
from  the  hands  which  the  nails  have  torn;  that  he  thirsts, 
languishes  and  dies.  And  what  does  history  tell  you  of 
him?  That  for  many  years  he  had  been  undergoing  the  vi 
cissitudes  of  human  experience;  subiect  to  want  and  infir- 
mity like  other  men;  panting  in  weariness  by  the  waj'side; 
asking  food  and  shelter  in  the  homes  of  his  friends;  shed- 
ding tears  in  sympathy  with  the  mourner;  acknowledging 
the  force  of  domestic  ties,  and  submitting  to  the  burdens 
laid  upon  the  citizen.  It  is  a  true  man  who  now  looks  up- 
on the  pleading  penitent  at  his  side,  and  says  "this  day 
slialt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise."  Our  conception  of  the 
Savior  must  therefore  recognize  in  him  this  character.  In 
the  one  person  of  Jesus,  we  must  with  equal  distinctness 
behold  a  divine  and  a  human  nature.  The  Savior  will  not 
have  been  defined  as  the  evidence  requires  him  to  be,  un- 
less we  affirm  of  him  both  propositions,  he  is  God,  and  he 
is  man.  Had  it  been  a  mere  man,  nothing  but  a  fellow 
mortal  who  had  spoken  to  the  poor  malefactor  those  gracious 
words,  they  would  only  have  mocked  his  woe.  If  they 
cheered  his  fainting  spirit  with  hope,  if  they  threw  a  Hood 
of  light  over  the  dark  path  to  eternity  which  he  was  tread- 
ing (as  we  may  well  believe,)  it  was  only  because  he  heard 
in  them  the  voice  of  God,  because  he  recognized  in  Jesus 
one  who  was  the  express  image  of  the  Father  and  who 
spoke  with  all  the  authority  of  Jehovah.  It  was  of  course 
a  very  extraordinary  faith  which  led  him  to  do  this;  but 
any  one  can  see,  who  will  reflect  a  moment  upon  the  cir- 
cumstances of  the  case,  that  an  extraordinary  faith  lay  at 
the  bottom  of  every  incident  in  the  tranaction.  Nothing 
but  an  extraordinary  faith    could  have  made  him  look  upon 


184  A  pastor's  yaledictorv. 

Jesus,  as  he  appeared  at  such  a  momeut,  as  al)]e  Lo  render 
him  any  service;  and  when  that  faith  couUl  go  the  length 
of  saying,  "Lord  remember  me  when  thou  cometh  into  thy 
kingdom,"  we  may  be  sure  it  had  reached  that  elevated 
point  of  view  which  made  him  see  in  Jesus  the  very  person 
and  nature  of   God. 

But  while  we  acknowledge  the  legitimac}'  of  the  idea 
that  he  who  pardons  sin  and  promises  eternal  life  to  this 
dying  thief,  is  truly  God,  we  are  constrained  to  conclude 
that  his  humanity,  also,  has  an  important  part  to  take  in 
the  procedure;  and  that  the  result,  the  salvation  of  man, 
is  due  as  much  to  what  the  Savior  does  as  man,  as  to 
what  he  does  as  God.  You  feel  at  once  that  the  mercy  of 
God  would  not  have  spoken  itself  forth,  so  to  speak,  from 
such  a  spectacle  of  suffering,  unless  that  suffering  had  had 
an  intimate  and  neccessary  connection  with  the  exercise  of 
mercy.  And  this  is  the  great  doctrine,  I  conceive  set  be- 
fore ns,  in  this  transaction,  that  it  is  through  the  suffering 
of  the  cross  that  the  mercy  of  God  is  communicated  to  sin- 
ful man.  This  thief  was  assured!}'  to  be  saved;  and  his 
salvation  was  made  certain  by  the  fact  that  it  was  God 
who  had  determined  the  event  by  his  authoritive  decree. 
But  upon  what  ground,  or  consideration  was  the  decree  of 
God  determining  the  event,  based?  The  answer  to  this 
question  is  found  in  the  sufferings  of  Christ.  His  death 
was  the  procuring  cause  of  the  mercy  which  exhibits  itself 
in  the  gift  of  pardon  and  eternal  life.  The  waters  of  sal- 
vation flow  from  a  smitten  rock.  The  sacrifice  of  Jesus 
was  a  propitiation,  a  sin  offering,  a  ransom,  a  transaction 
in  which  the  victim  appears  as  the  substitute  for  the  offen- 
der, and  undergoes  in  his  stead,  the  penalty  due  to  his  sins. 
so  making  satisfaction  to  that  justice  which  having  annexed 
death  to  sin  as  its  rightful  I'eward,  can  never  forego  or  re- 
lax its  stern  demands.    You  may  search  the  Scriptures  through 


THE    SAVED    MALEFACTOR.  185 

and  tills  is  the  explanation  wliicli  yon  will  tind  eveiyvvliere 
recorded  of  the  hnraanity  and  the  hnman  experience  of  our 
Lord  Jesns  Christ.  He  came  into  the  world  to  save  sin- 
ners. These  glad  tidings  men  are  willing  enough  to  credit. 
But  how  did  he  come?  What  is  implied  in  his  taking  our 
nature,  and  sojourning  in  our  world?  O,  how  few  minds 
seem  to  understand  ami  realize  this!  Just  what  you  see  upon 
the  cross,  this  fearful  spectacle  of  woe,  and  this  culmination 
of  a  long  and  diversified  career  of  woe;  this  is  what  is 
meant  by  Christ  coming  to  save  sinners.  You  could  have  no 
Savior  without  the  cross;  no  vision  of  a  compassionate  God 
without  the  vision  of  the  sutl'ering  man,  Christ  Jesus.  Mercy 
to  every  pardoned  soul,  flows  from  precisely  the  same  source, 
as  that  from  which  it  flowed  to  this  penitent  malefactor. 
Precisely  what  he  saw  when  he  uttered  that  believing  prayer, 
"Lord  remember  me,"  every  sinner  upon  whose  heart  the 
light  of  a  sound  scripture  hope  of  salvation  has  dawned 
must  have  seen;  must  have  looked  at  by  the  eye  of  faith, 
Jesus,  the  Lamb  of  God,  expiating  upon  the  altar  the  sin 
of  the  world;  Jesus  enduring  the  curse  of  the  law  that  he 
might  redeem  those  who  were  under  the  curse;  Jesus  giving 
himself,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  that  he  might  bring  us  to 
God.  Just  as  distinctly  as  the  serpent,  lifted  up  in  the  wilder- 
ness, was  looked  upon  by  the  poisoned  Israelites,  and  hailed 
as  the  source  of  healing  and  life,  Christ  crucified  is  held  up 
in  the  Gospel  as  the  object  of  the  sinner's  trust;  and  is  re- 
ceived and  depended  upon  by  every  true  penitent  as  the 
source  of  pardon  and  salvation.  That  same  voice,  tremulous 
with  the  death  pang,  which  said  to  the  thief,  "this  day  shalt 
thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise,"  speaks  still  to  the  sin-burdened 
soul,  and  assures  it  of  the  grace  that  saves  it.  The  key-note 
in  the  anthem  of  mercy,  is  still  the  wail  of  Calvary.  The 
balm  that  restores  the  dying  malefactor  to  life  is  still  the 
blood   of   Jesus.      And  thus,  Deity  and  humanity  wondrously 


186  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

combine  in  the  Savior  wbo  delivers  the  sinner  from  death.  It 
is  the  God  who  proclaims  the  decree  of  pardon  and  gives  the 
title  to  heaven;  but  it  is  the  sutfering  of  the  man  which 
furnishes  the  foundation  of  the  decree;  and  then  again,  it 
is  the  dignity  of  the  deity  which  makes  the  sacrifice  of 
humanity  effectual  to  its  end,  and  invests  it  with  that  pecu- 
liar value  which  makes  it  able  to  atone  for  the  sins  of  the 
world.  And  what  a  source  of  hope  and  comfort  it  is — 
which  is  thus  presented  to  the  view  of  the  anxious,  de- 
sponding sinner!  How  complete,  how  sure,  how  simple, 
and  yet  how  divinely  wise!  What  mind  would  even  have 
conceived  of  it — and  yet  what  mind  that  intelligently  looks 
at  it  can  fail  to  see  its  perfect  propriety  and  its  infinite 
efficacy?  With  such  a  Saviour,  made  hiso  wn  by  that  ap- 
propriating faith  which  is  described  as  the  only  condition 
of  enjoying  the  benefit  of  his  offices,  who  can  doubt  that 
his  salvation  is  secure?  And  who,  my  friends,  dare  hope 
for  salvation  in  any  other  name,  or  from  any  other  source, 
while  this  Saviour  is  thoughtlessly  neglected  or  arrogantly 
despised?  Can  such  a  vision  as  this  of  Christ  crucified 
ever  l)e  forgotten  by  the  soul  which  has  once  intelligent!}' 
apprehended  it?  Can  the  eye  that  has  once  fastened  its  gaze 
upon  the  cross,  suffer  anything  to  interrupt  its  view?  Must 
it  not  linger  about  such  an  object  with  a  reverence  and  de- 
light that  familiarity,  instead  of  abating,  only  makes  more 
intense,  until  in  the  great  catastrophe  when  all  other  ob- 
jects shrink  into  nothingness  in  the  fell  eclipse  of  death — 
this  shall  be  to  the  departing  believer  like  a  pillar  of  fire, 
filling  the  horizon  with  its  lustre,  and  flooding  the  dark 
valley  with  its  celestial  glory?  Just  that  then  which  the 
Christian's  heart,  if  not  direlect  to  all  its  renewed  instincts, 
will  see,  and  love  to  remember,  God  by  the  ordinances 
of  his  house  has  made  it  its  duty  to  remember.  The  Lord's 
supper  is  a  festival  of  Remembrance,  enjoined  upon  all  who 


THE    SAVED    MALEFACTOR.  187 

have  been  led  to  utter  the  cry,  "Lord  remember  me;'  and 
as  often  as  the  believer  participates  in  it,  he  deepens  his 
impressions  of  the  reality  and  the  significance  of  that  event. 
He  studies  anew  the  story  of  his  i-edemption — he  discerns 
the  Lord's  body  or  gazes  upon  the  person  of  his  divine 
Saviour,  and  throngli  tlie  eml:)lems  which  lie  receives,  he 
embraces  and  appropritites  the  blessings  of  pardon  and  sal- 
vation otf'ered  to  him  as  the  purchase  of  his  death.  We 
cannot  wonder  that  God  instituted  such  a  sacrament  in  his 
church,  and  we  cannot  wonder  that  all  spiritunl  Christians 
have  loved  it  and  have  been  wont  to  connect  with  it  some 
of  the  deepest  and  hai)piest  experiences,  and  we  cannot  but 
think  that  those  men  are  chargeable  with  great  inconsistency 
or  great  insensibility,  who  profess  to  believe  in  Christ  and 
to  depend  upon  him  for  salvation,  and  yet  deny  the  obliga- 
tion they  are  under,  to  remember  and  honor  him  in  this 
ceremonial  of  his  own  appointment. 

With  this  glance  at  the  source  of  the  divine  mercy,  as 
exercised  in  the  salvation  of  men,  let  us  now  look  for  a 
moment  or  two,  at  the  other  topic — the  extent  to  which 
this  mercy  is  applied.  This  too  is  well  illustrated  in  the  in- 
cident referred  to  in  the  text.  From  the  person  of  the 
Saviour  we  now  turn  to  the  pei'son  saved,  and  inquire  who 
is  he?  The  facts  concerning  him  are  few;  but  they  are 
sufficient  to  warrant  us  in  taking  him  as  a  representative  of 
two  extremes,   one  of  guilt,   and    the  other    of    helplessness. 

First,  he  was  a  criminal.  Matthew  calls  him  a  thief — 
by  which  he  means  a  bandit-  a  highwa}'  robber.  His  crimes 
had  ijeen  such  that  the}'  had  exposed  him  to  the  heaviest 
penalty  human  laws  could  inflict;  and  bj'  his  own  confession 
the  punishment  was  just — for  he  says  to  his  companion  in 
suffering,  "we  are  receiving  the  due  rewards  of  our  deeds." 
He  was  no  doubt  a  monster  in  wickedness.  According  to 
the  narrative  of  other  evangelists,  it  would  seem  that  he  in 


188  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

common  with  the  other  malefactor,  had  at  one  time  joined 
with  the  crowd  in  mocking  and  deriding  Jesus.  If  so,  this 
was  another  evidence  of  the  reclilessness  and  brutality  to 
which  he  had  been  reduced.  Probably  no  eye  pitied  him 
in  all  that  raullitude.  The  country  felt  relieved  in  seeing 
him  consigned  to  vengeance,  as  if  a  tiger  had  been  cast  out 
of  its  fold.  He  liad  made  war  upon  his  race;  and  every 
one  was  glad  to  know  that  the  universal  foe  had  been 
at  last  overtaken  with  judgment.  But  during  the  protracted 
period  of  his  sud'erings,  a  better  spirit  awoke  in  his  heart. 
All  things  are  possible  with  God;  and  the  nature  even  of  such 
a  man  was  not  too  depraved  for  omnipotent  grace  to  change 
it.  There  are  many  waj's  in  which  we  may  suppose  the 
truth  which  is  unto  salvation  had  been  lodged  in  his  mind, 
and  many  ways  in  which  the  power  of  God  can  make  the 
smallest  germ  of  truth  work — and  work  rapidly  too — like 
leaven  in  the  lump,  till  it  issues  in  the  radical  conversion  of 
the  sul>ject.  Certain  it  is  that  this  bold  and  flagrant  sinner 
became  an  humble  suppliant  for  mercy,  and  recognized 
in  Jesus  the  source  from  which  this  mercj'  was  to  come. 

But  now  observe  the  other  feature  in  his  condition,  his 
helplessness.  What  could  he,  poor  impotent  wretch,  do  to 
make  himself  just  in  the  sight  of  God?  The  last  hours  of 
his  miserable  life  had  been  reached;  his  pulse  was  growing 
feebler  every  moment;  keen  pains  were  racking  his  body; 
be  was  fastened  motionless  to  a  cross.  Labors  and  offer- 
ings— alms,  deeds  and  penances  (could  such  have  availed 
to  propitiate  the  Deity  into  whose  presence  he  was  passing) 
— were  now  all  out  of  the  question  with  him.  It  was  too 
late  to  gain  salvation  by  any  meritorious  work,  had  such  a 
thing  been  possible,  at  any  time.  His  burden  of  guilt  was 
pressing  consciously  upon  him,  and  eternity  with  its  retri- 
butions was  just  before  him;  and  nothing  within  the  com- 
pass of  his  power    could  take  the  burden  from    his  soul,   or 


THE    SAVED    MALEFACTOR.  189 

keep  it  from  weigliing  him  down  to  the  pit  of  Hell:  What 
ti  picture  of  utter  helplessness  the  man  presents!  What  is 
there  for  him  to  do,  but  to  groan  out  his  few  lingering 
moments  in  horror,  and  then  die  in  despair.  There  was  one 
thing,  which  by  some  blessed  intimation  of  the  spirit  of 
God  it  was  revealed  to  him,  he  could  do,  notwithstanding 
all  his  guilt  and  helplessness — and  that  was  to  cast  himself 
upon  the  simple  mercy  of  God,  and  to  invoke  the  otHces  of 
Jesus  as  the  channel  through  which  this  mercy  might  be 
bestowed.  This  method  was  pursued.  With  a  penitent  and 
contrite  spirit,  overwhelmed  with  his  sense  of  sin,  and  mak- 
ing no  attempt  to  present  the  shadow  of  a  righteousness  of 
his  own  before  God,  he  turns  his  eye  to  the  Saviour.  He 
directs  his  prayer  to  him.  With  a  faith  that  surmounted 
all  the  obstacles  which  the  present  condition  of  the  Re- 
deemer presented,  he  recognized  him  as  the  Son  of  God 
and  the  King  of  Israel — as  one  who  in  the  character  of 
judge  and  sovereign  had  power  to  grant  him  remission  of 
sin,  and  deliverance  from  eternal  death ;  and  he  ventures  to 
pour  forth  the  petition,  "Lord  remember  me  when  thou 
comest  into  thy  kingdom."  And,  O,  miracle  of  mercy,  that 
petition  brought  the  boon  he  sought!  All  that  he  had  dared 
to  hope  for  in  that  wild  effort  of  his  soul,  springing  from 
the  very  verge  of  perdition  to  seize,  if  it  might  be  with  the 
violence  of  desperation,  the  prize  of  eternal  life,  all  that 
he  gained;  for  like  the  voice  that  once  stilled  the  noise  of 
the  tempest  and  the  tumult  of  the  sea,  the  accents  of 
Jesus  fell  sweetly  upon  his  soul,  announcing  the  wonderful 
result,  "this  day  shalt  thou  be  with  me  in  Paradise."  Be- 
hold here  the  extent  to  which  the  mercy  of  God,  which 
has  its  source  in  Christ  crucified,  can  be  applied!  Much 
as  the  Gospel  tells  us  of  the  efficacy  and  the  freeness  of 
divine  grace,  this  illustration,  me-thinks,  has  been  given 
us  as  the  crowninor  demonstration  of    these  slorious    truths. 


190  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

This  is  the  monument  erected  upon  the  field  of  revelation, 
designed  to  show  ii  world  of  sinners  that  there  is  no  other 
limit  to  God's  readiness  to  save  them,  than  that  which 
grows  out  of  the  depravity  of  their  own  hearts^ their  own 
wilful,  persistent  and  infatuated  love  of  sin.  There  is  no 
ambiguity  in  testimony  like  this.  There  is  no  mistaking 
the  import  of  such  a  procedure.  You  can  all  recall  with  little 
difficulty  the  scene  described  in  the  text.  The  parties  and 
words  and  transactions  are  all  real.  Whatever  doctrine  is 
taught  here  is  taught  under  the  form  of  fact.  That  sinner 
was  pardoned  and  saved;  and  he  was  saved  by  one  who 
acted  in  the  name  and  with  the  authority  of  God;  and 
whose  action  was  based  upon  all  those  extraordinary  cir- 
cumstances which  characterized  the  sacrifice  upon  Calvary. 
In  many  respects  the  position  of  this  malefactor  is  a 
type  of  that  of  evei'y  Ijelieving  child  of  God,  First  of  all, 
it  was  from  a  similar  condition  of  danger  that  every  one 
of  you  who  are  this  day  rejoicing  in  hope  of  the  glory  of 
God,  has  been  delivered.  Conversion  in  every  case  is  a 
passing  fi'om  death  into  life.  You  were  bound  by  the  same 
responsibilities  as  those  which  were  drawing  that  criminal 
to  the  bar  of  Grod.  You  were  in  your  state  of  unbelief, 
condemned  already.  The  wrath  of  God  was  abiding  on  you. 
Though  you  had  not  committed  the  precise  sins  of  the  thief 
in  the  text,  you  know  from  a  revelaticm  that  has  been 
made  to  you  of  your  heart  and  your  life,  that  there  was 
sin  enough  in  you  to  have  classed  you  with  the  enemies  of 
God,  and  to  have  made  it  impossible  for  you  ever  to  have 
passed  successfully  the  trial  of  the  last  day,  or  to  have  es- 
caped the  curse  which  is  pronounced  upon  all  who  continue 
not  in  all  things  written  in  the  book  of  the  law  to  do 
them.  And  then,  in  his  helplessness  as  I  have  depicted  it, 
the  malefactor  is  a  type  of  every  believer.  You  were  never 
placed  in  a  position  of    such    literal    impotency    as    that    in 


THE    SAVED    MALEFACTOR.  191 

which  he  is  exhibited  to  us.  And  yet  so  far  as  concerns 
anything  you  could  do  to  compensate  for  the  wrong  done 
to  God  by  your  sin,  to  satisfy  the  cUiims  of  justice,  to  ac- 
quire a  righteousness  which  would  fulfill  the  demands  of 
the  law,  or  to  renovate  and  make  worthy  your  nature  for 
companionship  with  God,  3'ou  were  just  as  impotent  as  he; 
you  were  just  as  strictly  shut  up  to  an  appeal  to  the  di- 
vine mercy  of  every  hope  of  salvation,  as  he  was.  This  is 
the  view  of  your  case,  as  it  is  plainly  described  in  the 
Scriptures,  and  as  it  has  been  revealed  to  you  a  thousand 
times  over  by  your  own  experience.  You  have  felt  that 
heaven  was  just  as  inaccessible  to  you,  on  the  ground  of 
any  work  of  your  own,  as  it  was  to  the  thief  fastened  to 
his  cross.  These  are  convictions  which  have  been  as  clearly 
revealed  to  your  minds  as  they  were  to  his. 

And  then,  you  may  learn  from  the  malefactor's  case, 
to,  what  you  are  indebted,  for  your  hope  of  salvation.  A 
pitying  God  has  spoken  to  you,  you  trust,  the  words  of 
pardon;  but,  ah,  how  has  he  spoken  them?  Through  whose 
lips?  Through  those  of  that  sinless  man,  who  suffered  and 
died  on  the  cross.  The  accents  that  gave  you  peace,  that 
this  day  assure  you  of  God's  favor  and  of  his  purpose  to 
save  you,  came  from  those  lips  which  were  parched  and 
blanched,  which  groaned  and  prayed  on  Calvary.  The  death 
of  Jesus  stands  as  directly  connected  with  your  salvation  as 
it  did  with  that  of  the  thief.  From  out  that  mortal  agony 
that  wrung  the  life  from  Jesus,  Hows  tiie  joy  that  cheers 
your  heart.  From  the  bosom  of  that  dark  cloud  that  fell 
upon  his  soul,  when  he  complained  that  the  Father  had  for- 
saken him,  comes  the  ray  that  has  kindled  the  light  of  life 
in  yours.  The  death  of  Christ  was  endured  for  you.  It 
was  the  expiation  of  your  sins;  and  upon  the  ground  of 
that  alone,  it  is  that  the  mercy  of  God  has  found  a  way 
to    reach    you    and    embrace    you    in    its   gracious    promises. 


192  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

Without    those    sutferings    of    Jesus    you    never    could    have 
been  saved. 

And  then  in  the  last  place,  what  shall  I  say  of  the 
extent  to  which  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ  is  represented 
iiere,  as  reaching?  What  but  this,  tliat  the  chief  of  sin- 
ners may  trust  it.  You  Christians  may  trust  it,  for  unbe- 
lief and  doubt  sometimes  shake  even  your  coniidence.  If 
you  are  troubled  with  misgivings  and  fears,  to-day,  behold 
the  abounding  grace  of  God.  llemember  that  it  is  by  grace 
that  you  are  saved ;  and  behold  here,  what  that  grace  has 
done,  and  learn  from  this  what  it  can  do.  Just  credit  it. 
Let  every  vestige  of  self-righteousness,  which  keeps  3'ou 
trembling  and  alarmed  on  th«  score  of  your  own  unworthiness, 
be  swept  out  of  view  to-day;  and  let  the  grace  of  God,  for 
once,  in  all  its  i)lenitude,  encompass  you,  and  lift  you  al)Ove 
all  fear  into  the  calm  empyrean  where  the  pure  sunshine  of 
divine  love  floats  around  the  ver}'  porttds  of  heaven.  And 
you,  who  are  not  Christians,  what  can  1  say  to  you  on  this 
topic,  but  that  if  you  are  not  saved  it  is  not  because  there  is 
not  mercy  enough  in  God  or  because  he  has  not  given  you 
encouragement  enough  to  seek  that  mercy.  Through  mercy, 
and  through  mercy  as  it  is  ottered  to  you  in  the  Gospel, 
you  must  be  saved,  if  you  are  ever  saved;  but  with  this 
spectacle  of  this  thief  saved  through  that  mercy,  who  of 
you  need  despair  of  finding  it?  It  can  reach  to  every  one 
of  you,  who  will  seek  it.  Nothing  stands  in  the  way  of 
your  own  salvation  but  your  own  unwillingness  to  be  saved. 
Only  take  such  an  attitude  before  God,  as  this  malefactor 
did;  only  have  his  penitence,  his  faith,  and  his  earnestness; 
only  press  your  suit  for  mercy  as  honestly  and  intelligently, 
as  he  did;  only  make  Jesus  your  mediator,  and  fix  your 
trust  upon  him,  as  he  did,  and  to  every  one  of  you  the 
same  blessings  that  he  found,  and  the  same  assurance  of 
being  with  Christ  in  Paradise  which  cheered  his  heart,  shall 
infallibly  be  given. 


THE  SHEPHERDS'  TENTS. 

JANUARY  15,  1S71. 


"Oh,  thou  fairest  auioua;  women,  go  thy  way  foilh  by  the 
footsteps  of  the  tioek,  atui  feeil  thy  kkis  besides  the  .Shepherds' 
tents." — Song  of  Sol.  1:1^. 


IN  the  symbolism  of  the  poem  from  which  this  passage 
is  taken,  two  parties,  Clirist  and  the  believer,  are  por- 
trayed under  the  form  of  a  royal  Bridegroom  and  his 
Bride.  This  Bride,  iu  coming  into  the  new  relationship  to 
which  she  has  been  elevated,  is  oppressed  with  that  feeling 
of  diffidence,  which  a  remembrance  of  her  lowly  origin, 
and  her  previous  unworthy  associations,  naturally  inspires. 
Instead  of  asserting  her  fitness  to  occupy  the  distinguished 
position  to  which  she  has  been  called,  she  seems  to  shrink 
from  it,  as  one  who  distrusts  her  own  capacity  to  bear  her- 
self becomingly  witii  the  great  grace  bestowed  upon  her; 
and  who  fears  lest  by  her  weakness  or  inadvertance  she 
may  forfeit  that  grace  In  language  which  bears  a  notice- 
able similarity  to  that  of  the  Prodigal  in  the  Savior's  Par- 
able, who  cries,  "Father,  I  am  not  worthy  to  be  called  thy 
son,  make  me  as  one  of  thy  hired  servants,"  she  confesses, 
"Bride,  though  I  am,  and  permitted  to  sit  by  the  side  of 
the  King,  I  feel  that  my  proper  place  is  at  his  feet.  I 
feel  that  the  form  in  which  my  necessities  make  his  favor 
towards  me  most  requisite  and  grateful,  is,  that,  of  pro- 
tection, support  and  guidance."  And  so  at  the  same  mo- 
ment in  which  she  avails  herself  of  her  privilege  to  call 
him   "0,   thou  whom  my  soul  loveth,"  she  is  moved  to  ask 

193 


194  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

from  him  the  further  privilege  of  becoming  a  sheep  of  his 
flock.  This  is  the  import  of  her  inquiry,  "where  feeclest 
thou?  where  makest  thou  thy  flock  to  rest  at  iroon?"  an  in- 
quiry which  has  ia  it  all  the  force  of  a  petition  that  she 
might  be  fed  aud  takea  under  his  charge,  as  a  member  of 
his  flock  Every  Christian  who  hears  me  will  be-  able,  I 
imagine,  to  recall  as  a  part  of  his  early  experience,  a  feel- 
ing analogous  to  this  diffidence  of  the  Bride.  The  great 
event  of  his  conversion,  when  Faith  wedded  his  soul  to 
Christ  and  Christ  appeared  taking  his  soul  into  union  with 
himself,  is  called  in  Scripture  the  act  of  his  espousals  to 
God.  You  who  have  been  parties  to  such  an  act  will  re- 
member how  overpowering  was  the  impression  of  the  change 
which  it  wrought  in  you.  You  felt  yourselves  translated 
from  darkness  into  light.  You  were  conscious  of  a  trans- 
formation like  that  of  one  who  had  been  raised  from  the 
dead.  You  could  say  things  of  yourself  which  3'ou  were 
sure  were  true,  which  previously  you  could  -neither  have 
believed  possible,  nor  understood.  Old  things  had  passed 
away,  behold,  all  things  had  become  new.  A  new  language 
was  on  your  tongue,  A  new  spirit  had  been  put  into  your 
heart.  A  new  and  living  way  of  access  to  God  had  been 
opened  to  you.  You  were  sitting,  indeed,  in  heavenly 
places,  in  Christ  Jesus.  But  just  as  overpowering  as  was 
the  impression  of  the  marvelous  change  you  had  undergone, 
was  the  conviction  of  your  own  inadecjuacy  to  personate  and 
realize  the  character  in  which  you  now  appeared.  Bearing 
a  name  as  exalted  as  that  of  the  Bride  of  Christ,  you  felt 
that  the  place  which  it  became  you  to  fill,  was  rather  that 
of  a  sheep  of  his  fold.  Presumption,  and  complacency 
and  self  confidence  were  the  last  feelings  that  you  would 
have  thought  of  entertaining.  You  never  were  more  hum- 
ble than  in  that  moment  when  your  investiture  with  all  the 
privileges  of    the  sons    of    God    was    made    known    to    you. 


THE    shepherds'    TENTS.  195 

The  greatness  of  tlic  grace  coiiferre<l  upon  you  made  you 
see  bow  completely  you  were  thrown  upon  grace,  for  the 
ability  to  meet  the  obligations  which  the  grace  already  be- 
stowed had  created.  The  good  work  begun  in  you  was  so 
good  that  only  he  who  had  begun  it,  could  be  depended  on 
to  carry  it  on  to  perfection.  And  the  desire  which  was 
uppermost  in  your  hearts,  was  that  Christ,  who  had  re- 
vealed himself  to  you  as  the  Divnie  Bridegroom,  would 
condescend  to  perform  to  you  the  ottices  of  a  Divine  Shep- 
herd. 

The  counsel  contained  in  'our  text  is  simply  his  re- 
sponse to  this  desire.  Stripping  the  passage  of  its  tiu-ura- 
tive  guise,  it  is  the  direction  given  by  Christ  to  the  be- 
liever, askuig  to  be  placed  in  a  position  most  favorable  for 
the  attaining  of  that  security  in  his  walk,  and  that  develop- 
ment in  his  character  which  his  new  affection  as  a  believer 
constrains  him  to  seek.  I  propose  to  make  it  my  business 
this  morning  to  unfold  the  meaning  of  the  last  clause  of 
it — "and  feed  thy  kids  beside  the  Shepherds'  tents.  ' 

This  expression,  you  will  observe,  consists  of  two 
specifications — one  of  the  work  to  be  done,  "feed  thy  kids," 
and  another  of  the  place  wherein  that  work  is  to  be  done, 
"beside  the  Shepherds'  tents."  And  beginning  our  exami- 
nation with  this  latter  particular,  we  notice  this  feature  in  the 
field  or  territory  occupied  by  the  Sheep  of  Christ,  that  it 
is  sub-divided  into  a  number  of  departments.  The  spectacle 
presented  to  us  is  not  that  of  a  uniform  and  unbroken 
plain,  but  that  of  a  plain  dotted  all  over  with  shepherds 
tents,  which  shepherds'  tents  become  central  points  in  the 
scene  and  mark  off"  a  whole  area  into  minor  circles.  As 
many  as  are  these  shepherds'  tents,  are  the  bands  or  com- 
panies into  which  the  sheep  are  gathered;  for  it  is  beside 
these,  you  notice,  that  they  are  directed  to  feed.  Each 
tent  becomes,   therefore,   a  nucleus  around   which  a  separate 


196  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

community  is  coacentiated.  Now  somethiDg  of  that  order 
which  the  Lord  has  instituted  among  his  followers,  seems 
to  be  indicated  by  this  fact.  If  the  typology  of  our  text 
gives  us  any  light  upon  this  subject,  as  I  think  it  does,  it 
teaches  us  these  three  things: 

First,  that  the  idea  of  a  unity  in  the  Church  of  Christ 
is  verified  or  realized  in  the  common  relation  of  all  the 
members  to  Christ,  as  his  followers,  and  in  the  character 
which  is  implied  in  this  relation.  Every  believer  belongs 
to  Christ.  Every  Christian  is  Christ's-  man.  Every  be- 
liever or  Christian,  therefore,  in  this  respect,  stands  upon 
the  same  ground.  He  is  like,  or  he  agrees  with  every  other 
believer  or  Christian.  You  may  go  from  land  to  land, 
from  population  to  population  and  from  family  to  family, 
and  wherever  you  find  a  true  believer  or  Christian,  you  will 
find  an  individual  sustaining  the  same  relation  to  Christ, 
and  as  a  consequence,  exhibiting  the  same  type  of  character. 
This  is  enough  to  warrant  us  in  saying  of  the  Churcii,  it 
is  a  Catholic  body;  and  of  the  sheep  of  Christ,  they  are 
"one  fold."  The  true  ground  and  the  adequate  ground 
upon  which  the  unity  of  the  Church  stands,  is  the  Head- 
ship and  the  Proprietorshij)  of  Christ.  Over  the  whole  as- 
semblage of  his  Hock,  gathered  as  they  are  in  their  parts 
around  the  various  shepherds'  tents  which  have  been  erected 
among  them,  and  stretching  away  in  their  ramifications  to 
every  quarter  of  the  horizon.  He  looks  down  from  His 
throne  in  Heaven  and  recognizes  them  all  as  his  own.  "I 
know  my  sheep,"  he  says,  "and  I  am  known  of  mine." 
And  so  in  the  fact  that  they  are  all  his,  he  beholds  the 
fulfillment  of  his  prayer  tor  them  recorded  by  St.  John, 
"that  they  all  may  be  one,  as  thou  Father  art  in  me,  and 
I  in  Thee,   that  they  also  may  be  one  in  us." 

Secondly,  while  unity  in  this  sense,  is  undoubtedly,  a 
feature  essential  to  the  Church,  it  is  maintained  in  it,  under 


THE  shepherds'  tents.  107 

a  great  variety  of  outward  forms.  Wbile  the  flock  of 
Cbrist  is  constituted  into  one  homogeneous  mass  by  the 
bond  which  attaches  every  member  to  liim,  it  is  sep;irated 
into  an  indefinite  number  of  sections  by  the  presence  of  a 
l)liiralit3'  of  shepherds'  tents  interspersed  through  it,  and 
the  bond  which  attaches  a  i)ortion  of  the  memliers  to  each 
one  of  these  tents.  As  ^on  look  at  the  picture  set  before 
you,  in  the  text,  you  see  evidently  one  object,  the  flock  of 
Christ.  But  you  see  just  as  clear)}',  every  here  and  there, 
lifting  their  tapering  outlines  above  the  surface  of  the  mov- 
ing mass  of  sheep,  these  shepherds'  tents.  And  each  one 
is  the  centre  of  a  special  flock,  which  feeds  beside  it. 
Each  one  marks  a  distinction  so  far,  at  least,  as  locality 
and  organization  are  concerned,  between  the  flock  contigu- 
ous to  it,  and  the  other  flocks  which  are  similarly  congre- 
gated around  other  tents.  If  this  picture  represents  the 
Church,  we  must  look  for  a  corresponding  distinction  in 
the  Church.  We  are  to  expect  to  see  the  one  body  of 
Christian  followers  cut  up  into  minor  bodies,  by  certain 
great  lines  of  demarcation.  And  this  arrangement  will  accord 
exactly  with  that  economy  under  which  the  human  race  has 
been  placed.  The  earth  which  men  inhabit  like  a  building 
divided  into  a  number  of  apartments,  shows  that  it  was  in- 
tended to  be  occupied  by  a  number  of  families.  The  natu- 
ral barriers  which  over-run  it  and  fence  it  in,  such  as 
mountains,  deserts  and  seas,  have  forced  its  inhabitants  to 
crystalize  into  separate  nations.  Then  diversity  of  language 
has  mysteriously  supervened  to  make  their  severance  more 
complete.  And  lastly  the  conflicts  of  interest,  and  the  ca- 
prices of  taste,  and  temperament  have  operated  to  widen 
and  perpetuate  the  breaches  which  sunder  them.  The  world 
presents  us  evidently  and  necessarily,  we  may  say,  with  the 
spectacle  of  a  vast  congeries  of  flocks,  clustering,  each  one, 
about  a  shepherd's  tent,   or   a  centre   of  union,   of    its   own. 


198  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

It,  is  not  likelv  that  the  plan  upon  which  the  Church  is 
constructed,  would  over-ride  this  econonay  which  we  see  es- 
tablished in  tlie  world.  An  ecclesiastical  union  which  would 
extinguish  those  distinctions  which  parcel  out  the  human 
race,  into  nations  and  tongues,  would  seem  to  be  fatal  to 
the  very  intentions  of  Providence.  It  is  far  more  reasona- 
ble, therefore,  and  I  may  add,  it  is  far  more  scriptural,  to 
conclude  that  while  the  Church  is  one  body  in  virtue  of  the 
relations  of  all  its  parts  to  Christ,  it  is  constituted  of  parts, 
or  divided  into  sections,  just  as  the  population  of  the  world 
is;  and  upon  the  same  grounds  of  expediency  which  have 
led  to  the  partition  of  ihe  population  of  the  world.  We 
are  no  more  to  look  for  a  visible  universal  empire  in  the 
(/hurch  than  we  are  in  the  world,  and  that  captivating  ar- 
gument b}'  which  the  advocates  of  the  Romanish  Church 
sustain  its  pretensions,  that  in  it,  this  idea  of  a  visible  un- 
iversal empire  is  realized,  is  nothing  more,  therefore,  than 
a  splendid  sophism,  because  the  promises  upon  which  it  is 
built,  are  unsound.  The  ends  for  which  the  kingdom  of 
God  were  instituted,  do  not  require  such  an  empire.  Its  ex- 
istence would  really  be  subversive  of  the  ends  of  Provi- 
dence, while  on  the  other  hand  these  ends  and  their  analo- 
gy with  the  ends  of  Providence,  do  require  that  the  mem- 
bership of  this  kingdom,  like  the  membership  of  the  human 
race,  should  be  separated  into  a  multiplicity  of  flocks,  each 
one  concentrated  about  its  shepherd's  tent. 

Then  thirdly,  we  notice  an  absolute  parity  among  the 
shepherds'  tents,  exhibited  to  us  in  the  picture  of  the  text. 
Amongst  the  many  revealed  to  us,  there  is  no  particular 
one  which  overtops  the  rest;  no  one  which  stands  up  in 
royal  pre-eminence  over  its  fellows,  as  Joseph's  sheaf  did, 
in  his  dream,  over  the  sheaves  of  his  brethren.  Each  tent 
is  a  centre  to  the  special  flock  which  clusters  around  it, 
and  feeds  under  the  shadow  of    it,   but  no    tent  is   a  centre 


THE    shepherds'    TENTS.  199 

to  all  other  tents.  There  is  no  one  over  whicli  flouts  the 
symbol  of  supremacy,  and  which  has  the  right  to  say:  "I 
am  the  Mother  of  you  all;"  no  one  whose  occupant  is  en- 
titled to  claim  the  rank  and  office  of  a  chief  shepherd  or 
bishop.  No,  my  friends,  3'ou  find  nothing  which  symbolizes 
a  Iiuman  Headship  in  the  Church  of  Christ,  in  the  specta- 
cle of  it  which  you  see  here,  nothing  which  gives  a  particle 
of  countenance  to  the  idea  that  there  is  a  Primacy,  or  an 
Apostolical  Hierarchy,  in  the  House  of  God,  by  maintain- 
ing a  connection  with  which  onl}',  you  can  make  good  your 
claim  to  be  numbered  among  the  sheep  of  Christ.  Such 
language  as  comes  to  us  ever}'  now  and  then,  from  certain 
quarters,  finds  no  parallel  in  that  which  the  Bridegroom 
here  addresses  to  his.  Bride.  "Feed,"  he  says,  "beside  the 
Shepherds'  tents,"  not  beside  this  one,  or  that  one^not  be- 
side Rome,  or  Oxford,  or  Geneva,  but  anywhere,  where  the 
pasture  3'ou  get,  is  the  pure  doctrine  of  Christ,  and  the 
regimen  you  are  subjected  to,  keeps  you  in  fellowship  with 
the  rest  of  his  flock,  and  in  union  with  Him,  the  common 
Head  of  all.  The  fact  that  he  shows  us  thus  in  the  terri- 
tory occupied  by  his  Church,  a  number  of  shepherds'  tents, 
and  that  no  one  of  these  bears  any  sign  of  precedence  over 
the  residue,  is  a  clear  intimation  that  the  inmates  of  these 
tents,  or  sheplierds,  whom  he  has  set  over  his  flock,  are 
equal  in  authority;  and  that  the  parity  which  prevailed 
among  the  Apostles,  whom  he  originally  sent  forth,  was  in- 
tended to  be  perpetual  among  those  who  were  to  succeed 
them,  as  the  Pastors  or  Bishops  of  his  Church.  "Call  no 
man  your  Father  upon  earth,"  he  said  to  these  Apostles, 
"for  one  is  your  Father  which  is  in  Heaven.  Neither  be 
ye  called  Masters,  for  one  is  your  Master  even  Christ;" 
and  in  precise  accordance  with  this  injunction,  by  the  simili- 
tude employed  by  the  Holy  Ghost  in  the  text,  we  are 
taught  as  a    permanent  ordinance  in  his  kingdom,    his  min- 


200  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

isters  are  bretliicn,  installed  as  peers  in  their  separate 
shepherds'  tents,  with  no  Fathers  or  Masters  among  them. 
But  not  to  dwell  too  long  upon  these  ineidental  matters, 
what  it  concerns  us  more  to  notice  in  the  counsel,  "feed 
beside  the  shepherds'  tents,"  is  that  the  welfare  nnd  ad 
vancement  of  the  sheep  of  ChriKt,  are  here  represented,  as 
depending  upon  the  use  they  make  of  the  ministrations  of 
the  shepherds,  whom  the  Lord  has  appointed  over  his  flock. 
There  is  something  significant  in  tiie  turn  which  is  given  in 
the  Bridegroom's  answer  to  the  thought  which  had  been  ex- 
pressed in  the  request  of  the  Bride.  She  had  asked, 
"where  feedest  thou?"  that  is,  where  dost  tbou  administer 
food  to  thy  sheep?  She  was  thinking  only  of  him,  and  the 
aim  of  her  inquiry  was  to  learn  how  the  benefits  of  his 
personal  culture  could  be  obtained.  He  replies  by  pointing 
her  to  the  shepherds'  tents;  and  directing  her  to  feed  be- 
side them.  As  much  as  to  tell  her,  "I  execute  my  office 
as  gunrdian  of  my  flock  through  the  agency  of  a  set  of 
under-shepherds.  What  you  seek  from  me  I  give  you 
through  their  hands.  I  have  commissioned  them  to  be  the 
feeders  of  my  sheep;  and  lo,  I  am  with  them  alway,  even 
unto  the  end  of  the  world."  This  interpretation  of  the 
Bridegroom's  response,  leads  us  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
existence  of  a  pastoral  office,  or  of  a  body  of  men  devoted 
to  the  work  of  teaching  and  ruling  in  the  Church,  is  a  di- 
vine institution,  and  is  to  be  taken  as  an  index  of  the 
grace  and  bounty  of  the  great  head  of  the  Church.  It  is 
his  method  of  providing  for  the  safety,  comfort  and  the 
edification  of  his  people.  The  Christian  ministry  is  more 
than  a  learned  or  philanthropic  profession.  It  is  almost  a 
profane  misnomer,  to  speak  of  it  as  a  business,  by  which 
men  undertake  to  achieve  renown  or  win  a  livelihood.  It 
is  an  ordinance  of  God,  in  the  same  sense  in  which  the 
Church    is.      "No    man    taketh  this  honor    unto    himself  but 


THE    shepherds'    TENTS.  201 

he  tluit  is  called  of  God,  as  was  Aaron."  As  your  eye 
looks  over  this  tract  of  ground  occupied  by  this  concourse 
of  sheep,  presented  to  you  in  the  imagery  of  the  text,  and 
notices  the  sliepherds'  tents  stationed  at  convenient  points 
all  over  the  field,  you  do  not  have  a  doubt  that  it  was  by 
the  special  order  of  the  proprietor  of  the  tiock,  that  these 
tents  were  placed  there;  and  that  it  is  by  his  special  ap- 
pointment that  the  inmates  of  them  are  discharging  their 
otlice.  x\nd  no  more  can  you  have  a  doubt  that  the  minis- 
try which  you  find  allied  to  the  Church  has  been  created 
and  put  in  exercise  in  the  Church,  b}'  the  same  authorit}' 
as"  that  which  has  instituted  the  Church.  The  ministry  is 
a  phenomenon  of  tlie  same  character  with  the  Church.  If 
that  is  God's  building,  so  is  this.  Hence  the  Apostles 
speak  of  being  "Ambassadors  of  Christ,"  and  "workers  to- 
gether with  God."  Hence  St.  Paul  writes  to  the  Ephesian 
Christians,  that  the  Lord  had  given  to  the  Church,  "some 
Apostles,  some  Prophets,  some  Evangelists,  some  Pastors 
and  Teachers,  for  the  perfecting  of  the  saints,  for  the 
work  of  the  ministry,  for  the  deifying  of  the  body  Christ,"' 
and  in  the  same  way  he  reminds  the  Bishops  of  these  same 
Ephesian  Christians  in  his  interview  with  them  at  Miletus, 
of  their  dot}-  to  "take  heed  unto  themselves,  and  to  all 
the  flock  over  which  the  Holy  Ghost  had  made  them  over- 
seers, to  feed  the  Church,  of  God,  which  he  had  purchased 
with  his  own  blood."  From  the  origin  of  the  flock,  we 
have  no  difficulty  in  determining  the  origin  of  the  shep- 
herds, whose  work  it  is  to  oversee  and  feed  it.  The  same 
supernatural  power  which  we  have  reason  to  believe  is 
engaged  in  gathering  out  of  the  generations  of  men,  a 
peculiar  people,  known  as  the  "household  of  faith,"  is  en- 
gaged equally  in  calling,  and  furnishing,  and  commission- 
ing a  set  of  men  to  whom  the  supervision  of  that  house- 
hold   is    ministerially     entrusted.       That    Paul    was    one    of 


202  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

sucli  a  set  of  ineu,  nobody  can  question.  That  he  regarded 
Timothy  as  another,  is  just  as  certain;  and  that  he  expected 
others  after  Timothy  to  belong  to  it  we  know  from  his  pos- 
itive injunction  in  2nd  Ephesians  to  liim,  "and  the  things 
that  tliou  hast  heard  of  me  among  many  witnesses,  the 
same  commit  thou  to  faithful  men  who  shall  be  able  to 
teach  others  also."  In  regard  to  the  validity  of  the  grounds 
upon  which  any  particular  individual  would  authenticate  his 
claim  to  belong,  to  that  set  of  men,  there  may  be  a  diversi- 
ty of  opinion;  but  in  regard  to  the  ordinance  by  which  the 
existence  of  such  a  set  of  men  has  been  made  an  organic 
element  in  the  Church,  there  can  be  none.  And,  hence, 
to  them  is  delegated  the  otlice  which  primarily  and  essen- 
tially belongs  to  Christ,  himself,  of  providing  for  the  nur- 
ture and  protection  of  the  sheep.  And  hence,  you  hear 
(Uirist  saying  to  the  follower  who  is  looking  up  to  him  for 
such  nurture  and  protection,  "feed  beside  the  shepherds' 
tents." 

And  now  the  residue  of  our  time  must  be  devoted  to 
an  exposition  of  this  work  of  feeding,  which  is  devolved 
upon  his  flock,  by  the  Mastei-'s  charge.  These  shepherds' 
tents,  these  oflices  in  the  house  of  God,  these  ordinances 
of  teaching  and  ruling,  all  looking  to  the  spiritual  training 
and  edification  of  the  Church  as  the  end,  obviously  lay 
upon  the  memljership  of  the  Church,  an  obligation  to  use 
them  for  the  end  for  which  they  were  appointed.  The  Pas- 
toral function  is  limited,  so  to  speak,  to  the  indicating  and 
the  opening  of  the  ground,  where  the  sheep  of  Christ  may 
safely  and  profltably  feed.  It  is  not  meant  to  supersede 
effort  on  their  part.  It  is  rather  meant,  to  stimulate  and 
facilitate  effort.  It  has  no  power  to  confer  upon  the  soul 
of  the  believer,  those  graces  which  it  needs  to  have,  in  or- 
der to  verify  its  high  relationship  as  the  Bride  of  Christ; 
it  can  only  help    it    to   acquire    those   graces.      It    can    only 


THE  shepherds'  tents.  203 

oft'er  it  Liu;  means  siiid  and  methods  by  which  those  graces 
are  to  be  obtained.  The  sheep  tliat  will  not  feed  beside 
the  shepherd's  tent,  will  get  no  benefit  from  its  contiguity 
to  that  object.  It  will  starve  and  die  beside  the  shepherd's 
tent.  The  provisions  for  3'our  growth  in  Itnowledge  and 
advancement  in  holiness  which  are  included  in  the  economy 
of  the  Church,  will  do  yon  no  good,  ray  friends,  unless 
with  an  honest  craving  for  such  growth  and  advancement 
you  make  a  proper  use  of  these  provisions.  The  injunc- 
tion, "feed  beside  the  shepherds'  tents,"  means  just  this, 
that  you  should  make  a  proper  use  of  these  provisions. 
The  Lord  Jesus  has  so  ordered  it,  perhaps,  that  the  enjoy- 
ment of  his  own  gracious  interest  in  and  care  for  his  peo- 
ple should  be  conditioned  upon  their  making  a  proper  use 
of  these  provisions,  in  order  that  the  genuineness  of  the 
new  principle  in  their  hearts  by  which  they  call  him,  "Him 
whom  the  souls  love,"'  should  have  an  opportunity  of  attest- 
ing itself  by  their  diligence  and  fidelity  in  this  respect. 
The  sheep  who  are  found  feeding  most  faithfully  beside 
those  shepherds'  tents,  which  he  has  establised  among 
them,  are  undoubtedly  the  types  of  the  souls  who  do  most 
truly  love  him,  and  who  are  most  sensibly  favored  with  the 
evidences  of  his  love.  And  the  true  explanation  of  the 
fact  that  Christians  anywhere  are  seen  to  be  in  a  dull, 
morbid  and  lifeless  condition,  would  proba])ly  be  that  they 
have  grown  indifferent  to  the  value,  and  lax  in  the  use,  of 
those  provisions  for  their  spiritual  health  and  growth,  which 
have  been  set  before  them,  in  the  ordinances  and  ministra- 
tions of  the  Church.  And  as  the  spectacle  of  Christians  in 
this  state  is  not  a  rare  one,  it  may  not  be  amiss  for  me  to 
sum  up  the  practical  bearings  of  our  text  in  a  few  coun- 
sels, enforcing  this  duty  of  using  those  gifts  and  helps 
which  the  Lord  has  ordained  for  the  edification  of  his 
people. 


204  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

And  with  this  aim.  let  me  remind  you  first,  that  the 
real  character  of  the  Christian  is  indicated  by  the  term, 
"Bride  of  Christ" — not  by  the  term,  "sheep  of  Christ." 
The  effort  of  every  truly  regenerated  soul,  therefore,  is  to 
realize  this  character;  to  develop  and  ripen  into  the  sort  of 
person  it  ought  to  be,  in  order  to  fill  the  place  of  a  Bride 
of  Christ.  You  will  have  observed  how  in  the  text,  the 
party  speaking,  drops  down,  as  it  were,  from  this  level  to 
that  designated  by  the  term,  "sheep"  of  Christ;  and  this 
only,  that  she  may  rise  again,  in  a  worthier  guise,  and 
with  a  more  assured  confidence,  to  that  level.  The  believer 
should  always  remember  the  high  calling  he  has  received 
from  God  The  most  sacred,  the  most  honorable  forms  of 
human  kinship  are  used  to  describe  the  relation  to  his 
Savior  into  which  he  has  been  introduced.  The  Apostle 
seems  to  exhaust  the  power  of  language  in  this  direction, 
when  he  says  to  the  Corinthians,  "1  have  espoused  you  to 
one  husband  that  I  may  present  you  as  a  chaste  virgin  to 
Christ;"  and  when  he  says  to  the  P]phesians,  "we  are  mem- 
bers of  his  body,  of  his  flesh  and  of  his  bones."  Such 
nearness  to  the  Jjord,  as  is  proposed  to  us  in  these  terms, 
seems  to  bewilder  us.  The  splendor  of  the  elevation  to 
which  they  lift  us  is  dazzling;  and  with  blinded  eyes  we 
turn  away  from  it.  The  foot  of  faith  trembles  to  mount 
to  this  altitude  of  grace.  And  though  somehow  the  heart 
admits  and  feels  the  bridal  bond  which  unites  us  to  Christ, 
the  lip  fears  to  claim  the  bridal  name;  and  with  an  over- 
powering sense  of  unworthiness  and  timidity,  we  ask  to  be 
ranked  among  his  "slieep. "  It  befits  us  better,  we  feel,  to 
be  tended  and  fed  by  Jesus,  the  shepherd,  than  crowned 
and  feasted  by  Jesus,  the  Bridegroom.  And  so  it  does, 
brethren.  We  need,  as  the  speaker  in  the  text  does,  to 
drop  down  from  this  level  to  which  we  have  been  raised 
by  our  union    with  Christ,   by  our    "acceptance    in    the   Be- 


THE  shepherds'  tents.  205 

loved,"  to  the  lower  one  of  an  object  of  Christ's  pustoriil 
guardianship  and  nurtnre.  Our  infirmities  admonish  us, 
that  in  our  present  state  the  place  of  the  sheep  is  safer 
for  us  than  the  place  of  the  Bride.  But  then,  and  this  is 
what  I  would  have  you  bear  in  mind,  your  relation  to 
Christ  is  not  changed  by  this  change  of  place.  You  are 
his  Bride,  all  the  time,  that  you  are  acting  in  the  humbler 
capacity  of  his  sheep.  The  offices  he  bestows  upon  you  in  • 
this  latter  character  are  only  in  order  to  ([ualify  you  to  as- 
sume and  exemplify  the  better,  the  former  one.  The  idea 
which  lay  in  the  mind  of  God,  in  givmg  you  to  his  Son, 
requires  tha^  you  should  be  his  Bride — not  his  sheep.  The 
sheep  holds  the  position  of  the  property  of  its  owner,  and 
excites  on  the  part  of  the  owner  such  a  regard  as  belongs 
to  property.  The  sheep  by  force  of  an  instinctive  sense  of 
helplessness  clings  to  the  Shepherd  and  mechanically  fol- 
lows him.  The  believer  occupies  immeasurably  higher 
ground  than  this  in  his  relation  to  Christ.  He  belongs  to 
Christ  it  is  true,  for  he  has  been  "bought  with  a  price" — 
but  not  as  property.  He  has  been  bought  with  an  outlay 
of  which  the  prompting  motive  was  Love.  "Greater  love 
hath  no  man  than  this,  that  he  lay  down  his  life  for  his 
friends."  And  the  regard  he  receives  from  the  Redeemer, 
is  that  which  the  Bridegroom  bestows  upon  his  Bride;  and 
the  attachment  and  the  service  which  this  Redeemer  expects 
from  his  followers,  is  not  the  irrational  submission  and  de- 
pendence of  an  animal,  but  the  free  and  joyful  consecra- 
tion of  a  loving  Bride.  I  say  it  becomes  you  to  have  this 
fact  always  in  remembrance.  Because  you  stand  now  in  the 
position  of  a  sheep  of  Christ,  and  are  embraced  by  that 
economy  which  has  been  instituted  over  his  flock,  do  not 
forget  that  this  condition  of  things  is  only  subordinate  to 
the  forming  and  perfecting  within  you  of  the  elements  of 
that  higher  character   which  is    described    by    the    term    the 


206  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

Bride  of  Clirist.  You  must  follow  Jesus  in  your  religion, 
not  in  that  blind  and  formal  way  in  wLiicLi  the  sheep  con- 
fides in  the  Mastership  of  the  Shepherd;  but  in  the  way 
the  true  wife  blends  her  own  being  with  that  of  the  hus- 
band whom  she  loves.  O,  these  sheep  that  are  so  com- 
posedly ranging  about  the  pasture  grounds  and  treading 
the  pathways  of  Church  systems  and  formulas,  without  even 
feeling  the  pulsations  of  a  life  which  weds  them  to  Christ, 
and  keeps  the  soul  growing  into  tenderer  and  closer  union 
with  him  every  day  and  every  hour,  I  fear  they  are  entitled 
to  bear  the  name  neither  of  sheep  nor  of  Bride!  For 
Christ,  I  am  sure  recognizes  no  one  as  his  shpep,  who  is 
not  drawn  to  him  and  drawn  after  him,  by  the  force  of  an 
atlectiou  as  direct  and  personal  as  that  which  leads  the 
Bride  to  forsake  father  and  mother  and  cleave  unto  the 
Bridegroom ! 

It  follows  in  the  next  [)lace  from  this  fact  that  the  re- 
sult aimed  at  in  every  believer's  calling  is  the  realizing  of 
this  character  of  the  Bride  of  Christ;  that  the  predominant 
desire  in  such  a  believer's  heart  ought  to  be  that  of  acquir- 
ing the  graces  of  which  this  character  is  composed.  Such 
a  desire  is  often  alluded  to  in  the  scripture  as  a  character- 
istic of  the  spiritual  or  regenerated  man.  It  is  spoken  of 
as  something  as  well-defined  as  a  bodily  appetite;  as  when 
our  Savior  says,  "blessed  are  they  which  do  hunger  and 
thirst  after  righteousness  for  they  shall  be  filled;"  or  St. 
Peter  writes,  "as  new  born  babes  desire  the  sincere  milk 
of  the  word  that  ye  may  grow  thereby."  This  desire  is 
recognized  in  the  direction  given  in  our  text,  "feed  beside 
the  shepherds'  tents."  It  lies  at  the  bottom,  of  course,  of 
a  compliance  with  this  direction.  There  will  be  no  feeding 
where  there  is  no  desire  for  food.  The  right-minded  Chris- 
tian will  feel,  as  a  part  of  his  new  nature,  the  working  of 
a    force    analagous   to    that  of   a    bodily   appetite,   impelling 


THE    SIIEl'HERDS'    TENTS.  207 

h;iu  to  seek  those  things  wLiich  luinister  uourishment  to  his 
spiritual  life,  or  as  the  Apostle  expresses  it,  which  have  a 
tendency  to  form  and  mould  him  "into  a  perfect  man,  into 
the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fullness  of  Christ."  As 
the  Bride  adorneth  herself  with  her  jewels,  so  will  the  sacred 
instincts  of  his  heart  prompt  him  to  the  use  of  those  means 
by  which  he  shall  accjuire  the  comeliness  befitting  the  Bride 
of  Christ.  The  command  which  assigns  to  him  the  work 
of  feeding  will  have  been  anticipated  by  a  desire  for  food 
already  lodged  in  his  own  soul;  for,  as  the  consciousness 
of  the  relation  he  sustains  to  his  divine  Bridegroom  must 
evince  itself  by  a  disposition  to  grow  into  a  fitness  for  this 
relation,  and  as  growing  is  dependent  upon  feeding  as  its 
condition,  it  is  as  impossible  for  him  to  intermit  the  work 
of  feeding,  as  it  is  to  repudiate  his  relation  to  Christ.  It 
is  a  good  way  of  testing,  therefore,  brethren  the  temper 
and  the  drift  of  any  believer's  heart,  to  mark  the  vigor  of 
this  desire  in  his  heart  after  the  food  which  Christ  has  pro- 
vided for  his  flock;  and  to  note  the  measure  of  his  alacrity 
in  feeding  beside  the  shepherds'  tents. 

My  second  counsel  to  you,  therefore,  is  to  be  careful 
to  maintain  in  your  hearts  a  healthful  ajipetite  and  relish 
for  those  ordinances  and  aids  by  which  the  ideal  set  before 
you  in  your  calling  to  be  tlie  Bride  of  Christ,  is  to  be 
realized.  If  those  be  wanting,  the  best  outward  provision 
in  the  world  cannot  keep    3'ou  from  leanness    and    sickness. 

And  then,  a  third  CQunsel,  obliviously  will  be  to  attend 
actually  to  this  work  of  feeding.  The  shepherds'  tents  are 
before  you,  indicating,  not  as  some  Christians  seem  to  sup- 
pose, that  these  tents  are  a  guaranty  that  everything  which 
Is  implied  in  your  salvation  is  secured  to  3'ou,  and  that  the 
shepherds'  work  absolves  you  from  all  obligations  to  work; 
no,  not  this,  but  indicating  simply  these  quite  ditl'erent 
facts,   that  here  is    a    vital    work    to    be    done  by  you;    and 


208  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

here,  a  phice  where  without  dehiy  or  iutermission,  it  may 
be  done.  Beside  these  shepherds'  tents  you  are  to  feed. 
Tlie  facilities  for  your  growth  and  edification  are  as  numer- 
ous, and  as  near  to  you  as  these  sanctuaries  and  their  min- 
istrations, these  Sabbaths  and  their  privileges,  tliese  social 
assemblies  of  the  week  with  their  prayers,  and  tiieir  in- 
structions, these  living  teachings  of  the  pulpit,  and  these 
legacies  of  wisdom  and  piety  bequeathed  to  you  in  the  wit- 
ness of  the  good  men  of  former  ages,  these  pages  of  inspi- 
ration which  God's  own  hand  has  prepared  for  you.  and 
these  closets  which  Jesus  has  commended  to  you  as  store- 
houses of  all  those  blessings  contained  in  the  promises  to 
prayer;  and  you  feed  beside  them  when  you  are  living  in 
the  constant  and  faithful  use  of  them.  And  the  amount  of 
your  feeding  will  be  in  proi)ortion  to  the  use  you  make  of 
them.  Your  feeding  will  stop  when  you  cease  to  make  use 
of  them.  It  is  just  here,  in  this  locality  that  Christ  has  com- 
manded his  sheep  to  feed;  and  you  forfeit  your  right  to  be 
called  his  sheep,  and  you  divorce  yourselves  from  the  ben- 
efit of  that  nurture  which  he  bestows  upon  his  sheep,  when- 
ever you  are  not  found  feeding  in  this  pasture-ground. 
And  it  is  just  here,  from  these  fields,  which  encircle  the 
shepherds'  tents,  that  he  is  gathering  the  materinl  of  that 
Church  which  he  is  to  crown  in  Heaven  as  the  "Bride,  the 
Lambs  wife."  And  if  you  are  not  known  as  the  tenant  of 
these  fields  on  earth,  0,  my  friends,  it  is  not  likely  that 
over  you  the  nuptial  song  of  Heaven  will  ever  be  sung, 
"let  us  be  glad  and  rejoice,  for  the  marriage  of  the  Lamb 
is  come  and  his  wife  hath  made  herself  ready." 

And  then  one  counsel  more,  must  not  be  overlooked. 
I  have  thus  far  spoken  of  this  feeding  by  Christ's  sheep  as 
a  work  having  reference  to  their  own  nourishment  only.  This 
sense  I  consider  clearly  implied  in  the  expression  of  the  text. 
But  you  will  notice  that  that  expression,   in  the  form  of  it. 


THE    SHEPHERDS    TENTS.  2Ui) 

represents  this  ieeding  as  a  work  whicb  teiminates  tilso  upon 
others.  "Feed  thy  kids,"  is  the  precise  term  of  the  charge 
delivered  by  the  Bridegroom  to  the  IJride,  "feed  thy  kids  be- 
side the  shepherds'  tents."  That  is,  "couple  with  the  effort  to 
secure  spiritual  nurture  for  your  own  soul,  an  effort  to  sup- 
ply with  this  nurture  the  souls  of  others.  When  thou  feed- 
est  see  to  it,  that  the  'kids'  and  lambs,  and  young  ones 
over  whom  God  has  made  thee  the  household  overseer,  feed 
also."  It  would  seem  from  this  very  extraordinary  form  in 
which  the  answer  to  the  Bride's  request  for  the  privilege  of 
-'jeing  placed  under  her  Lord's  supervision  and  care,  is  pre- 
sented, that  the  Holy  Spirit  meant  to  teach  that  the  direct 
way  to  promote  piety,  and  ac({uire  the  advantages  of  re- 
ligion in  ourselves,  is  to  be  engaged  in  trying  to  qualify 
others,  especially  our  own  oft'spring,  to  become  members  of 
the  tlock  of  Christ.  It  is  too  late  for  me  to  say  much 
upon  the  important  subject  which  this  view  of  our  text 
opens  to  us,  the  fact  that  the  bestowing  of  labor  upon  the 
religious  culture  of  our  children,  operates  as  a  means  of 
grace  to  the  parent.  But  I  may  briefly  say,  that  such  a 
fact  accords  with  the  general  Scripture  principle,  that  it  is 
he  who  watereth,  who  may  expect  to  be  watered,  and  he 
who  occupies  himself  with  giving  who  may  expect  to  re- 
ceive. And  I  may  propound  the  question  to  you,  brethren, 
whether  the  explanation  of  the  fact  that  the  stock  of  bridal 
graces  which  every  believing  soul  is  assumed  to  be  accum- 
lating,  is  in  the  case  of  many  of  us,  so  small  to-day,  may 
not  be  just  this,  that  whatever  feeding  we  may  have  done 
ourselves,  we  have  neglected  too  much  to  become  feeders 
of  the  little  flocks  whom  we  preside  over  in  our  homes? 
The  priesthood  of  the  parent  and  the  evangelism  of  the 
fireside,  these  are  the  very  truths  wrapped  up  in  the  sig- 
nificance of  infant  baptism;  and  if  they  are  dropped  it  had 
better  be  abandoned.     It  is  to  be  feared  that  these  modern 


210  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

generations  are  losing  tbeir  sense  of  the  obligation  and  tlie 
value  of  the  ordinances;  and  I  shall  probably  make  a  con- 
fession, to  wliich  many  of  you  will  subscribe  when  I  say, 
that  if  our  Fathers  and  Mothers,  in  their  day,  had  not 
been  more  dutiful  in  feeding  their  kids  beside  the  shep- 
herds' tents,  than  we  have  been  in  feeding  ours,  we  should 
have  been  as  barren  of  the  faith  of  a  Christian,  and  as  far 
from  the  kingdom  of  God,  in  our  grown-up  manhood,  as 
our  children  so  generally  seem  to  be  in  their  youth.  1  am 
sure  there  is  a  great  fault  in  the  Church  everywhere,  in 
this  respect.  Religion  is  dying  out  in  our  homes;  and  if  it 
dies  out  there,  it  is  hardly  too  much  to  say  it  will  die  out 
everywhere.  Brethren,  the  soul  that  Christ  espouses  to 
Himself  ought  to  be  a  soul  consumed  with  love  to  him;  a 
soul  that  can  look  up  to  him  and  say  as  Peter  did,  "Lord 
thou  knowest  all  things,  thou  knowest  that  I  love  Thee." 
And  now,  mark  the  evidence  of  this  love,  this  Bride's  troth 
which  Christ  demanded  of  Peter — "feed  my  sheep,  feed 
my  lambs."  And  remember  that  he  demands  the  same  of 
you! 


THE  WALK  TO  EMMAUS. 

(SACRAMENTAL.) 

DECKIMJ5EK   23,  1855. 


'•And  they  .said  one  to  anotluT,  Did  not  our  lieai  t  burn  within 
us,  wliile  he  taliietl  with  us  by  the  way,  and  while  he  openetl  to  us 
the  Seiiptures?"— Luke  34:32. 


WK  have  here  presented  to  us  first  the  stntemeut  of  au 
effect,  and  second  the  statement  of  its  cause.  The 
effect  was  the  burning  of  the  hearts  of  the  disci- 
ples, the  cause  was  the  discourse  of  Jesus  by  the  way,  in 
which  he  opened  to  them  the  Scriptures.  The  language 
employed  to  descriije  the  effect  is  metaphorical;  but  very 
intelligible  and  very  expressive.  The  heart  is  said  to  burn 
when  a  person  is  excited  by  any  strong  emotion  or  passion. 
A  word  uiay  effect  the  hearer  as  the  coal  of  fire  does  the 
wood;  and  even  sometimes  as  the  spark  does  the  magazine 
of  powder  to  which  it  is  applied.  It  may  change  his  con- 
dition from  one  of  apathy  to  one  of  intense  sensibility.  It 
may  rouse  him  from  a  posture  of  passive  repose  to  one  of 
violent  or  explosive  activity.  Some  such  effect  as  this  the 
language  of  Jesus  had,  on  this  occasion,  upon  the  minds 
of  the  disciples.  They  were  dull  and  cold,  dejected  and 
stupefied  before,  as  is  apt  to  be  the  case  after  the  experi- 
ence of  any  sudden  shock  or  any  severe  calamity.  They 
became  conscious,  under  the  power  of  their  companions' 
conversation,  of  a  revival  of  feeling  and  interest.  Their 
torpid  faculties  were    warmed    into    motion.      Tender  memo- 

211 


212  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

ries,  inspiring  hopes,  vivid  convictions,  ardent  desires, 
cheering  consolations  were  infused  into  them  until  they 
glowed  and  sparkled,  so  to  speak,  with  the  blaze  of  fervid 
thoughts  and  sentiments,  which  liad  been  kindled  within 
them.  The  cause,  which  produced  this  effect,  is  made  en- 
tirely evident  to  us  by  connecting  the  statement  of  the  text 
with  the  27th  verse  of  the  Chapter.  The  text  says  it  was 
what  Jesus  said,  while  he  talked  witli  them  by  the  way, 
and  while  he  opened  to  them  the  Scriptures.  The  27th 
verse  says,  that  "beginning  at  Moses  and  all  the  prophets 
he  expounded  unto  them  in  all  the  Scriptures  their  things 
concerning  himself. "  The  theme  of  that  discourse  which 
made  their  hearts  so  burn  within  them,  therefore,  was  the 
portrait  and  history  which  revelation  had  given  of  himself. 
This  was  the  .subject  about  which  he  talked  with  them;  this 
the  point,  in  reference  to  which  he  opened  to  them  the 
Scriptures.  Turning  their  minds  away  from  the  impressions 
and  conceptions  which  the  scenes  they  had  recently  wit- 
nessed had  created,  he  directed  them  to  those  which  the 
predictions  of  the  inspired  books  suggested.  He  made 
them  look  at  Christ  through  the  telescope  of  faith  instead 
of  the  organs  of  sense,  and  the  speculation  of  reason.  He 
changed  their  point  of  view.  He  took  them,  in  a  figure, 
as  he  had  once  taken  literally,  three  of  their  companions  to 
a  high  mountain  apart  and  there  was  transfigured  before 
them.  He  showed  himself  to  them  by  a  demonstration  of 
the  Spirit,  and  not  through  the  perceptions  of  the  flesh. 
They  saw  from  the  view  of  him,  which  they  had  now  ob- 
tained, what  the  true  olHce  and  the  true  glory  of  the  Mes- 
siah were;  and  they  saw  how  all  the  humiliations  to  which 
their  Master  had  been  subjected — how  even  the  cross  and 
the  tomb,  consisted  with,  and  fulfilled  that  office  and  that 
glory.  They  felt,  under  the  luminous  exposition  of  the  Di- 
vine oracles  which  He  gave  them,   how  justly  their  previous 


THE    AVALK    TO    EMMAUS.  213 

dullness  had  merited  the  rebuke,  "0,  fools,  and  slow  of 
heart  to  believe  all  that  the  prophets  have  spoken,"  and 
they  assented  with  a  joyful  conviction  to  the  conclusion, 
couched  in  the  ques-tion,  "ought  not  Christ  to  have  suffered 
these  things  and  to  enter  into  his  glory?" 

The  cause  of  that  peculiar  excitement  of  mind  of  which 
they  were  conscious  may  be  said,  therefore,  to  have  been, 
the  believing  apprehension  of  the  character  and  work  of 
their  Lord;  and  the  fact  recorded  in  the  text  may  be  taken 
as  an  illustration  of  the  kind  of  feeling  which  every  Chris- 
tian ought  to  experience,  when  engaged  in  the  contempla- 
tion of  his  Savior.  The  same  cause  may  be  expected  to 
produce  the  same  effect.  In  the  same  situation,  every  dis- 
ciple may  be  expected  to  feel  as  these  ancient  disciples 
did.  And  here  in  the  connection  between  such  a  position 
as  this  and  such  mental  exercise  as  this,  I  lay  the  founda- 
tion of  that  series  of  reflections  which  I  propose  to  offer  to 
you,  this  morning.  The  Christian  contemplating  his  Savior 
— what  is  that,  brethren,  but  the  very  act  and  spectacle, 
exemplified  by  the  business  in  which  each  of  you  ai'e  en- 
gaged in  your  visit  to  the  house  of  God  to-day?  The  ordi- 
nance we  have  met  to  celebrate,  is  specificall}',  an  exhibi- 
tion and  a  commemoration  of  Christ.  The  same  mysterious 
treasure,  the  same  inspiring  secret  which  Jesus  exposed 
when  he  unlocked  the  Scriptures  by  his  interpretation,  is 
enfolded  in  the  significance  of  these  sacramental  rites  which 
we  have  come  to  observe.  They  are  expositors  of  the  same 
great  truths  of  which  Moses  and  the  prophets  wrote.  As 
we  penetrate  their  design  and  look  through  them  to  the 
end,  we  shall  find  our  minds  in  contact  with  the  very  image 
which  so  transported  and  fired  the  hearts  of  the  disciples. 
For  they  are  meant,  pre-eminently,  to  show  us  Christ — to 
set  him  forth  evidently  as  crucified  amongst  us — to  make  us 
think  of  him,   and  to   give  us  strong    and    affecting   concep- 


214  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

tions  of  his  cliaractei"  and  work.  "Do  this  in  remembrance 
of  me,"  was  his  own  command;  and  "as  often  as  ye  eat 
this  bread  and  drink  this  cup,  ye  do  show  the  Lord's  death, 
till  he  come,"  is  the  declaration  of  an  'Apostle.  Your  par- 
ticipation in  this  ordinance  then  would  fail  entirely  of  its 
object  if  it  did  not  lead  yon  into  a  peculiarly  intimate  con- 
templation of  your  Savior.  It  will  be  an  empt}'  ceremonial 
if  it  does  not  introduce  you  to  the  same  vision,  as  that 
which  met  the  disciples  on  their  way  to  Emmaus.  Here  by 
the  way,  in  which  you  are  going — here  stepping  calmly 
athwart  your  life's  track — here  breaking  in  upon  the  crowd 
and  the  tumult  of  your  ordinary  thoughts  and  engage- 
ments, comes  an  expounder  to  arrest  your  steps  and  claim 
your  ear.  It  is  not  Jesus,  but  it  is  a  witness  sent  by 
Jesus;  a  minister  appearing  in  his  name,  and  commissioned 
by  his  authority;  and  its  errand  is  the  same  as  that  which 
brought  Jesus  to  the  disciples  on  their  way  to  Emmaus. 
It  has  come  to  open  to  you  the  Scriptures;  to  unfold  to 
you  the  mysteries  of  Redemption;  and  to  paint  before  your 
minds  in  a  living  picture,  the  grace  and  glor}-  of  the  great 
Redeemer.  The  same  story  exactly,  as  that  which  Jesus 
told  to  his  rapt  listeners  and  which  made  them  exclaim, 
"did  not  our  hearts  burn  within  us  while  he  talked  with 
us,"  this  expounder  will  tell  you;  and  if  you  listen  to  its 
revelations  and  catch  the  import  of  its  wondrous  recital, 
the  same  result  will  follow,  and  your  hearts  will  burn  with- 
in you  too. 

The  Christ  of  the  Scriptures,  brethren,  is  my  text,  and 
the  proper  theme  of  your  meditations  to-day.  And  the  first 
feature  in  it  which  I  shall  propose  for  your  consideration  is 
his  person.  Who  is  it  that  the  Scriptures  introduce  to  you 
under  the  name  of  Christ?  This  name  let  it  be  remembered 
is  the  name  of  an  office.  It  is  something,  or  it  describes 
something,   which  he    who  hears    it    has    assumed   or   under- 


THE    WALK    TO    EjMMAUS.  215 

taken.  It  does  not  properly  inform  us  who  the  person  is 
who  hears  it.  It  leaves  the  way  open  for  an  inquiry  into 
this  point;  and  it  suggests  the  inquiry  as  a  natural  and  a 
pertinent  one.  There  is  a  liistory  eoncerning  Christ  which 
lies  apart  from  the  history  of  his  oflice  as  the  Messiali. 
We  may  ask  who  it  was  that  assumed  that  oflice  just  as  we 
may  ask  who  Aaron  was,  that  assumed  the  oflice  of  priest, 
or  David  was,  that  assumed  the  office  of  king,  or  Samuel  was, 
that  assumed  the  otlice  of  prophet.  Aaron  and  David  and 
Samuel,  each  had  a  history  as  a  person  apart  from  his  his- 
tory as  an  official  character;  and  so,  he  who  is  presented  to 
us  in  the  Scriptures,  as  the  Christ,  has  a  history,  as  a  person 
which  may  be  considered  apart  from  his  history,  in  the 
character  which  he  bore  as  the  Christ.  This  history,  the 
believer  contemplating  his  Savior,  cannot  fail  to  notice, 
and  he  may  find  in  it  enough  to  excite  within  his  breast 
the  warmest  fervors  of  delight  and  devotion.  For  he  will 
have  pursued  his  inquiries  but  a  little  way,  before  he  will 
find  himself  gazing  upon  all  that  is  sublime,  and  all  that 
is  adorable  in  Divinity.  All  that  is  comprised  in  the  idea 
of  God,  will  be  found  to  be  represented  in  Scripture,  as 
contained  in  the  personality  of  Christ.  As  line  after  line 
and  feature  after  feature  of  the  portrait  evolves  itself  to 
his  view  upon  the  page  of  inspiration,  he  will  have  (unless 
his  eye  yields  to  the  distorting  violence  of  prejudice,  or  he 
arbitrarily  refuses  to  put  confidence  in  the  organs  and  func- 
tions of  his  nature),  to  confess,  'this  is  the  very  God," 
"this  is  the  identical  brightness  of  the  Father's  glory,  and 
the  express  image  of  his  person.  "  Thus  Christ  appears  to 
us,  invested  with  the  eternity  of  God.  He  existed  before 
he  was  born  into  the  world,  he  existed  from  everlastinir. 
Thus  he  says  he  came  into  the  world,  he  came  down  from 
Heaven,  he  was  sent  forth  by  the  Father.  "Before  Abra- 
ham was"  he  says   "I  am."      "In  the  beginning,"  writes  St. 


216  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

John,  "was  the  word,"  already  existing,  that  is,  when  cre- 
ation began,  or  prior  to  the  existence  of  all  creatures  lie 
had  a  being,  a  being  that  was  uncreated,  and  hence  the  be- 
ing of  the  self-existent  and  eternal  essence,  which  is  God. 
And  hence,  when  about  closing  his  residence  on  earth,  he 
prays,  "that  the  Father  would  glorify  him  with  his  own 
self  with  the  glory  which  he  had  with  him  before  the  world 
was."  Before  the  world  was,  away  back  in  the  dim  forever 
that  preceded  the  dawn  of  time,  lie  appears,  living  and  re- 
joicing in  the  fellowship  of  Jehovah's  glory.  According  to 
the  Scriptures  there  is  no  period  when  it  could  have  said 
of  him,  he  was  not,  or  he  began  to  be.  And  so  he  pos- 
sesses the  omnipotence  of  God.  "All  things  were  made  by 
him,"  and  without  him  was  not  anything  made  that  was 
made."  "By  him  all  things  consist.'"  "Re  is  able  to  sub- 
due all  things  unto  himself."  "As  the  Father  raiseth  up  the 
dead  and  quickeneth  even  so  the  son  quickeneth  whom  he 
will."  "All  power  is  given  unto  me  in  heaven  and  in 
earth."  Now  who  is  he  I  ask,  of  whom  such  things  are 
affirmed,  but  the  Almighty  God?  Further  he  has  the  om- 
nipotence of  God.  Nathanael,  hidden  in  his  I'ctreat  under 
the  fig  tree,  and  the  disciples,  in  the  middle  of  the  sea,  in 
the  darkness  of  a  stormy  night,  were  present  to  his  eye. 
"Where  two  or  three  are  gathered  together  in  my  name, 
there  am  I  in  the  midst  of  them,"  and  "I  am  with  j^ou 
always  even  unto  the  end  of  the  world,"  are  his  promises 
And  in  the  same  way  the  Scriptures  ascribe  to  him  the 
omniscience  of  God.  He  knows  the  thoughts  of  the  hearts 
of  men,  he  needeth  not  that  any  should  testify  of  man,  for  he 
knew  what  was  in  man.  "In  him  are  hid  all  the  treasures, 
and  wisdom,  and  knowledge. "  "Lord  thou  knowest  all 
things,"  was  Peter's  confession  concerning  him.  And  in 
virtue  of  this  knowledge  alone  it  is,  that  he  is  qualified  to 
perform  that  office  of    judging    the    world  at    the    last  day, 


THE    WALK    TO    EiMMAUS.  217 

which  it  is  again  and  again  affirmed,  has  lieen  entrusted  to 
liim.  Tn  connei'tion  with  these  attributes,  which  establish 
his  divinity,  tiie  Scriptures  ascribe  to  him  acts  and  works 
which  require  divinit}'  in  the  operator.  The  creation  of  the 
universe  is  said  to  have  been  his  act.  The  administration 
of  providence  is  repeatedly  said  to  be  his  work.  He  makes 
angels  his  ministers,  he  hears  the  prayers  of  those  who  call 
on  his  name,  he  is  to  raise  the  dead  and  try  every  man 
according  to  the  deeds  done  in  the  body,  and  to  separate 
infallibly  between  the  righteous  and  the  wicked,  at  his 
second  coming.  And  then  as  conclusive  evidence  on  the 
point,  we  find  him  in  repeated  instances,  bearing  the  titles 
and  claiming,  and  receiving,  the  honor  and  worship  which 
are  due  only  to  God.  "The  word,"  says  St.  John,  "was  with 
God,  and  the  word  was  God,  '  and  again  in  his  first  Epistles 
"this  is  the  true  God  and  eternal  life."  "Of  whom" — that 
is  the  fathers— writes  St.  Paul,  "as  concerning  the  fiesh, 
Christ  came  who  is  over  all,  God  blessed  forever."  "I  am 
Alpha  and  Omega,  the  first  and  the  last,"  he  said  of  him- 
self, and,  "I  and  mj^  Father  are  one."  "All  men  should 
honor  the  Son  even  as  they  honor  the  Father."  Who  being 
in  the  form  of  God  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with 
God.  "That  at  the  name  of  Jesus  every  knee  should  bow, 
of  things  in  heaven,  and  things  in  earth  and  things  under 
the  earth,  and  that  every  tongue  should  confess  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  Lord  to  the  g\oTy  of  God  the  Father."  Such  is 
the  testimony  which  the  Scriptures  give  us,  of  the  person 
of  Christ.  This  is  the  vision  that  the  opened  volume  of 
inspiration  presents  to  the  mind  of  the  believer,  contempla- 
ting his  Savior;  and  if  it  had  not  the  vision  of  God,  I 
know  not  where  that  vision  is  to  be  found.  Christ  must  be 
divine;  or  profane  hands  have  been  laid  upon  the  regalia 
of  heaven's  majesty  to  deck  a  creature  in;  and  heaven's 
own  ambassadors  have  pla3'ed    the  trick  to  steal    from   their 


218  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

raiglity  liege  the  homage  of  his  subjects,  and  lay  it  at  the 
feet  of  a  presuming  and  sacriligious  rival.  The  Scriptures 
surely  never  meant  to  do  us  such  a  wrong — to  beguile  us 
into  such  a  fearful  error.  0,  no!  They  would  never,  never, 
have  made  Christ  to  look  so  like  God,  if  they  had  not  in- 
tended to  make  us  acknowledge  him  as  God.  Tliis  is  the 
first  truth  which  demands  our  attention  as  we  contemplate 
him. 

And  now,  the  next  presents  him  to  us,  as  assuming  in 
connection  with  his  Divinity,  the  nature  of  man.  This  was 
in  order  to  qualify  him  for  that  office  and  work  which  he 
performs  in  his  character  as  the  Christ.  God,  to  become 
our  SaA'ior,  became  man.  Thus  he  is  represented  as  saying 
when  he  came  into  the  world,  "a  body  hast  thou  prepared 
me."  Thus  the  prophet  Isaiah  declares  in  anticipation  of 
his  advent,  "unto  us  a  child  is  born,  unto  us  a  son  is 
given,"  and  the  government  shall  be  upon  his  shoulder,  and 
his  name  shall  be  called  wonderful  counsellor  and  mighty 
God,  and  everlasting  Father,  the  prince  of  peace."  Thus 
his  apostles  write,  "the  word  was  made  flesh  and  dwelt 
among  us."  "God  was  manifest  in  the  flesh."  "He  made 
himself  of  no  reputation  and  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a 
servant,  and  was  made  in  the  likeness  of  men."  "When 
the  fullness  of  time  was  come  God  sent  forth  his  Son,  made 
of  a  woman,  made  under  the  law,  to  redeem  *  them  which 
were  under  the  law."  These  expressions  teach  most  un- 
equivocally the  fact  that  this  divine  person,  adopted  into 
union  with  his  divinity,  a  perfect  human  nature,  and  did 
so,  that  he  might  be  qualified  to  perform  such  acts,  as 
were  implied  in  the  work  he  had  undertaken  to  execute  as 
the  Christ.  He  became  one  with  man,  that  he  might  in 
man's  behalf  do  those  things  which  man  was  required  to 
do,  in  order  to  be  one  with  God.  Such  an  assimilation  of 
himself  to  those,  for  whose  benefit  he  assumed  the  ofl3ce  of 


THE    WALK    TO    EMMAUS.  219 

Christ,  was  fit  and  necessar}'  according  to  the  scheme,  under 
which  his  mission  had  been  created.  So  the  Scripture  often 
affirms,  "For  as  much  as  the  children  are  partakers  of 
flesh  and  blood,"  they  say,  "he  also  himself  took  part  of 
the  same,  that  through  death  he  might  destroy  him  that 
had  the  power  of  death,  that  is  the  devil,  and  deliver  them 
who  through  fear  of  death  were  all  their  lifetime  subject 
to  bondage,"  and  again,  "wherefore  in  all  things  it  be- 
hooved him  to  be  made  like  unto  his  brethren,  that  he 
might  be  a  merciful  and  faithful  high  priest  in  things  per- 
taining to  God,  to  make  reconciliation  for  the  sins  of  the 
people."  These  are  the  developments  of  Scripture,  concern- 
ing the  person  of  Christ.  They  are  confessedly  startling 
and  astounding.  They  show  us  in  the  man  a  God,  and  in 
the  God,  a  man.  We  see  the  facts.  They  are  verities, 
made  certain  by  revelation;  and  set  before  us  with  a  pre- 
cision and  fullness  of  language  which  forbid  all  reasonable 
doubt  as  to  their  character.  We  can  receive  them  as  facts, 
but  they  ai-e  m3'steries,  which  as  to  the  mode  of  subsist- 
ence or  process  of  construction  must  ever  baffle  our  con- 
ceptions. They  are  like  palaces  of  glistening  marble,  lift- 
ing themselves  clear  and  gorgeous  in  the  morning  sunlight 
upon  the  peaks  of  a  mountain,  around  whose  broad  bulk 
the  mists  of  the  valley  are  wreathing  their  impervious  veil. 
We  see  the  palaces,  but  that  which  supports  them  we  do 
not  see.  We  know  they  are  standing  there,  but  how  they 
stand  is  concealed  from  view.  They  seem  to  us  to  be 
hanging  in  the  clouds,  or  floating  in  the  azure  heaven.  But 
we  are  sure  they  are  real  palaces,  and  we  never  doubt  that 
they  have  a  real  and  an  adequate  basis,  though  a  temporary 
obstruction  has  made  us  incapable  of  discovering  it.  And 
so  we  can  believe  these  mysterious  disclosures  of  Scripture 
concerning  the  person  of  Christ,  to  be  truths,  having  in 
them  every  condition    and  element  of  verity,   and    harmoniz- 


220  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

ing  legitimately  with  all  other  truths,  although  we  cannot 
travel  up,  so  to  speak,  to  the  height  of  them,  by  any  visi- 
ble path  of  philosophical  demonstrations,  or  trace  out  pal- 
pably the  lines  and  points  by  which  their  connection  with 
the  order  of  things,  or  the  universe  of  truth,  is  established. 
And  Christians  do  believe  them  everywhere;  and  And  them, 
notwithstanding  all  their  mysteriousness,  so  potent  in  their 
influence  over  them  that  their  hearts  maj'  be  said  often  to 
burn    within  them,   while  they  contemplate  them. 

We  come  now  to  the  next  feature  in  the  exhibition  of 
Christ  presented  in  the  Scriptures,  and  that  •  is  the  work 
which  he  performed  after  his  assumption  of  humanity.  This 
we  have  described  to  us  in  the  narrative  of  his  ministry 
upon  earth.  He  speaks  of  it  often  himself  in  such  phrases 
as  these,  "the  Son  of  man  is  come  to  seek  and  to  save 
that  which  was  lost."  "The  Son  of  man  came  not  to  be 
ministered  unto,  but  to  minister,  and  to  give  his  life  a  ran- 
som for  many."  "I  am  the  good  shepherd,  the  good  shep- 
herd giveth  his  life  for  the  sheep."  The  prophet  foretold 
it,  when  he  wrote  of  him  such  things  as  these,  "He  was 
wounded  for  our  transgressions,  he  was  bruised  for  our  in- 
iquities, the  chastisement  of  our  peace  was  upon  him,  and 
with  his  stripes  we  are  healed."  "All  we  like  sheep  have 
gone  astray,  we  have  turned  ever}'  one  to  his  own  way,  and 
the  Lord  hath  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all."  "He 
hath  poured  out  his  soul  unto  death,  and  he  was  numbered 
with  the  transgressors;  and  he  bore  the  sin  of  many,  and 
made  intercession  for  the  transgressors."  His  apostles  rep- 
resented it  in  such  passages  as  these,  "It  is  a  faithful  say- 
ing and  worthy  of  all  acceptation,  that  Jesus  Christ  came 
into  the  world  to  save  sinners."  "Herein  is  love,  not  that 
we  loved  God,  but  that  he  loved  us  and  sent  his  Son  to  be 
the  propitiation  for  our  sins."  "Who  his  own  self  bore 
our  sins  in  his  own  body  on    the    tree,   that  we  being  dead 


THE    WALK    TO    EMMAUS.  221 

to  sins  should  live  unto  righteousness;  by  whose  stripes  ye 
were  healed."  "God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world 
unto  himself,  not  imputing  their  trespasses  unto  them," 
"for  he  hath  made  him  to  be  sin  for  us  who  knew  no  sin 
that  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him." 
From  these  Scriptural  quotations,  which  might  be  multiplied 
to  almost  any  extent,  we  may  learn  what  was  the  character 
and  what  the  object  of  Christ's  work  on  earth.  It  was  to 
redeem  those  who  were  under  the  curse  of  the  law,  and  it 
was  to  endure  suffering  and  death,  as  the  means  of  their 
redemption.  The  believer  contemplating  his  Savior,  sees 
him  undergoing  this  fearful  process  for  this  benevolent 
end.  From  those  heights  of  glory,  where  he  caught  his 
first  glimpse  of  Christ,  he  must  come  down  to  those  lowly 
scenes,  where  Jesus,  "the  man  of  sorrows,"  appears,  tread- 
ing his  pathway  of  pain  and  poverty  and  scorn.  It  is  a 
sad  story,  that  he  has  to  read  here;  a  story  written  in  tears 
and  in  blood.  Bethlehem,  where  he  lay  in  his  manger- 
cradle,  Nazareth,  where  the  infuriated  crowd  sought  to  cast 
him  headlong  from  the  brow  of  a  hill,  Sychar,  where  he  sat 
at  noontide  on  Jacob's  Well,  wearied  with  his  journey, 
Bethany,  where  he  wept  at  the  grave  of  Lazareth,  Gethse- 
mane,  where  he  endured  that  strange  agony  which  wrung 
the  crimson  sweat  from  his  frame,  Jerusalem,  where  he  was 
condemned,  and  mocked,  and  scourged,  and  crowned  with 
thorns,  and  Calvary,  where,  amidst  the  tortures  of  a  cross, 
the  companion  of  thieves,  and  the  object  of  the  scoff's  and 
anathemas  of  a  fiendish  mob,  he  bowed  his  head  and  died — 
must  all  pass  in  review  before  him.  The  history  of  Christ's 
sojourn  on  earth  is  a  protracted  exhibition  of  suffering  and 
humiliation.  It  is  a  history  which,*  without  aiming  at 
pathos  in  a  single  paragraph  or  word,  is  superlatively  pa- 
thetic in  every  part.  It  is  a  history  which  draws  the  warm 
tear-drops  from  the  eye  of  childhood,  and  kindles  the  flame 


222  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

of  sensibility  in  the  cold  breast  of  palsied  age.  It  is  a  his- 
tory, which  no  honest  or  thoughtful  believer  can  explore 
without  feeling  his  heart  burn  within  him  as  intensely  as 
the  disciples'  did  when  Jesus  expounded  to  them  the  things 
of  the  Scriptures  concerning  himself.  This  history  is  the 
inspired  description  of  the  work  of  redemption.  It  is  God's 
record  of  what  was  done,  in  order  to  redeem  each  particu- 
lar soul  of  man.  As  Paul  does  not  hesitate  to  entitle  it, 
it  is  the  narrative  of  God's  purchasing  his  church,  with  his 
own  blood.  It  shows  us  a  preparatory  work  which  the 
Christ  had  to  perform,  in  undertaking  to  become  the  Savior 
of  sinners;  and  it  enters  largely  into  that  field  of  observa- 
tion which  the  believer  has  to  survey,  when  he  would  con- 
template his  Savior.  It  is  what  you,  my  brethren,  must 
look  at  to-day.  That  plaintive  voice  which  summons  you 
to  the  Sacramental  table  with  the  words,  "do  this  in  re- 
membrance of  me,"  assumes  a  yet  deeper  plaintiveness  as 
it  says  to  you  over  the  elements  of  the  feast,  "this  is  my 
body  broken  for  you."  "this  is  my  blood  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, which  is  shed  for  many,  for  the  remission  of  sins." 
What  the  body  and  the  blood  represent,  the  concentrated 
woes  of  the  cross  in  which  the  lifelong  sorrow  of  Christ  at- 
tained its  culmination,  must  all  be  present  to  your  minds, 
as  you  perform  your  part  in  the  ceremonial  of  this  ordi- 
nance, and  if  you  see  but  the  half  of  what  these  symbols 
are  adapted  to  exhibit,  your  hearts  must  be  harder  than 
the  nether  millstone,  if  they  do  not  melt  into  gushing  ten- 
derness, and  rise  into  transports  of  wonder  and  gratitude. 
But  this  work  of  Christ,  upon  earth,  as  I  have  said,  is 
a  preparatory  work.  It  lays  the  foundation  for  a  super- 
structure to  be  built  upon  it.  It  is  in  itself  but  the  foun- 
dation. It  involves  in  its  design,  we  may  say,  the  super- 
structure which  is  to  be  built  upon  it,  but  it  does  not  pre- 
sent us  with  that  superstructure    in    fact.      That    appears  in 


THE    WALK    TO    EMMAUS.  223 

the  fruits  of  redemption,  as  tliey  are  developed  iu  the  itc 
tuai  salvation  of  those  to  whom  the  work  of  Christ's  re- 
demption is  applied.  The  application  of  his  work  of  re- 
demption, to  the  actual  salvation  of  men,  is  another  part  of 
his  office  which  needs  to  be  taken  into  view  by  the  believer 
iu  his  contemplation  of  his  Savior.  "He  shall  see  of  the 
travail  of  his  soul,"  says  the  prophet,  "and  shall  be  satis- 
fied." That  is,  it  is  in  the  birth,  the  issue  of  his  sacrifice 
those  to  whom  by  his  death  he  gives  life,  that  the  Messiah 
is  to  find  his  satisfaction,  or  to  see  his  work  reach  its  per- 
fect consummation.  The  foundation  which  he  has  laid 
must  complete  itself  in  the  superstructure  that  rises  upon 
it;  and  this  it  does  as  often  as  any  soul,  by  coming  to 
Christ  for  the  benefits  of  redemption,  becomes  engrafted  in- 
to him,  and  so  is  constituted  an  heir  of  eternal  life.  For 
the  accomplishment  of  this  result,  he  is  represented  iu 
Scripture,  as  now  prosecuting  his  ministry  in  heaven.  Thus 
says  the  Apostle  Peter,  "him  hath  God  exalted  with  his 
right  hand  to  be  a  Prince  and  a  Savior  for  to  give  repent- 
ance unto  Israel,  and  forgiveness  of  sins,"  and  to  the  same 
etfect  Paul  declares,  "Christ  is  not  entered  into  the  holy 
places  made  with  hands,  which  are  the  figures  of  the  true, 
but  unto  Heaven  itself,  now  to  appear  in  the  presence  of 
God  for  us."  When  the  believer  would  contemplate  him, 
therefore,  he  must  follow  him  to  his  state  of  exaltation  in 
heaven,  tmd  must  recognize  his  agency  iu  appearing  for 
each  one  of  his  followers  and  in  granting  to  them  repent- 
ance and  the  foi'giveness  of  sins.  It  is  thus  that  he  makes 
in  the  case  of  each  one  of  them,  the  work  of  redemption 
which  he  performed  on  earth,  reach  its  appropriate  and  its 
predestinated  issue.  His  Spirit,  his  Word,  and  his  Provi- 
dence, are  the  instruments  which  he  employs  in  this  minis- 
try,  the  divine  apparatus,   so  to  speak,   with  which  he  rears 


224  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

the  superstructuie  upon    the    foundation    he  had    phinted  in 
the  Sacrifice  of  himself. 

And  here,  at  this  point,  the  history  of  Christ  begins 
to  blend  with  the  history  of  the  individual  believer.  Here 
the  circle  of  Christ's  agency  passes  into  the  circle  of  the 
Christian's  experience.  In  contemplating  the  Savior,  he 
now  finds  himself  contemplating  his  Savior,  or  contemplating 
Christ  engaged  in  the  special  work  of  saving  him.  In  the 
process  by  which  he  has  been  brought  into  a  state  of  sal- 
vation, he  traces  the  work  of  Christ,  he  sees  a  chapter  of 
his  acts,  as  distinctly  as  he  does  in  any  part  of  the  narra- 
tive of  what  he  did  when  he  was  upon  earth.  Just  as  he 
sees  Christ  in  the  atonement  of  Calvary,  he  sees  him  in  the 
order  of  events  and  the  series  of  appliances,  by  which  the 
benfits  of  redemption  have  been  brought  home  to  him. 
Could  Paul,  think  you,  have  set  his  mind  to  a  contempla- 
tion of  the  Savior,  without  seeing  him  as  concerned  in 
bringing  about  his  journey  to  Damascus,  or  Cornelius,  with- 
out seeing  him  as  concerned  in  bringing  about  his  interview 
with  Peter?  or  Lydia,  without  seeing  him  as  concerned  in 
bringing  about  the  meeting  by  the  riverside,  at  Philippi, 
where  Paul  preached  to  the  women?  The  history  of  Christ 
in  the  case  of  each  one  of  these  persons,  ran  into,  or  iden- 
tified itself  with  the  history  of  their  conversion.  It  could 
not  be  followed  out  completely,  without  connecting  itself 
with  that.  And  so  Christ  is  manifested  in  every  believer's 
conversion.  When  he  would  contemplate  his  Savior,  he 
must,  if  he  does  not  shut  his  eyes  to  a  very  important  and 
a  very  interesting  department  of  his  subject,  contemplate 
him  as  present  and  acting  in  the  history  of  his  own  con- 
version. In  this  respect  he  has  a  vision  of  Christ  which  is 
peculiar  to  himself.  In  all  that  concerns  the  person  of 
Christ,  and  his  work  while  on  earth,  all  believers  may  be 
said   to   stand   on    the    same    platform,   and    be    engaged    in 


THE    WALK    TO    EMMAUS.  225 

contemplatiug  tlie  same  spectacle.  But  the  rnoment  they 
come  to  look  at  Christ  as  concerned  in  the  ajjplication  of 
redemption,  the  picture  varies,  with  each  separate  eye,  and 
each  beholder  has  his  own  spectacle  to  consider.  Each  has 
been  called  by  Christ  and  brought  to  Christ,  in  his  own 
way.  Each  has  his  own  answer  to  give  to  the  question, 
"why  am  I  what  I  am,"  and  "how  have  I  been  led  into 
the  favored  position  I  occupy?  '  Each  has  his  Savior  to 
contemplate,  and  it  is  one  and  the  same  Savior  with  them 
all;  but  in  the  special  aspect  under  which  each  is  called  to 
contemplate  his  Savior  in  his  dealings  with  his  own  soul, 
each  may  be  said  to  have  a  Savior  of  his  own  to  contem- 
plate. In  other  words,  the  history  of  what  Christ  has  done, 
for  each  believer  in  bringing  him  into  his  kingdom  and  in 
preparing  him  for  his  glory,  will  constitute  a  revelation  of 
the  Savior,  which  will  be  peculiar  to  him,  and  which  he 
may  contemplate  as  something  belonging  exclusively  to  him. 
The  story  of  his  own  spiritual  birth  and  experience,  the 
means  and  the  circumstances  connected  with  his  conversion, 
and  his  progressive  steps  in  his  discovery  of  truth,  the 
stages  in  his  translation  from  darkness  to  light,  his  trials 
and  his  helps,  his  victories  a.nd  his  defeats,  his  wanderings 
and  bis  recoveries,  all  the  struggles  and  vicissitudes  en- 
countered in  his  way  to  the  refuge  which  he  found  at  last, 
in  believing  in  Jesus — will  come  to  be  inwoven  with  the 
annals  of  Christ,  so  that  the  one  cannot  be  read  apart  from 
the  other.  And  in  the  same  way,  all  the  history  of  the 
child  of  God,  subsequent  to  the  time  of  his  spiritual  birth, 
all  the  incidents  of  his  Christian  "course,  all  that  has  be- 
fallen him  b}'  the  way,  whether  pleasant  or  painful,  whether 
in  the  form  of  indulgence  or  of  chastisement,  all  that  has 
helped  him  forward,  or  kept  him  from  falling  back,  all 
that  has  corrected  his  errors,  or  mortified  his  corruptions, 
or  developed  his  graces,  all  come  to  be  resolved  into  a  part 


226  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

of  the  manifestation  of  Christ  to  his  soul.  He  may  see  or 
ought  to  see  his  Savior  in  them  all,  for  they  all  show 
the  operations  of  his  hand  in  the  completion  of  the  good 
work  he  has  begun  in  him.  They  are  all  the  footprints  of 
the  Captain  of  his  salvation,  leading  him  onward  to  the 
perfection  of  his  final  state. 

With  this  suggestive  thought,  brethren,  I  must  close 
my  remarks.  You  can  pursue  it  for  yourselves,  and  noth- 
ing can  give  you  a  better  theme  for  your  reflections.  I 
have  pointed  out  to  you  a  wide  range  which  your  media- 
tions upon  the  Savior  may  take.  It  embraces  his  person, 
his  work  on  earth  in  effecting  redemption,  and  his  ministry 
in  heaven  in  applying  his  redemption  to  the  souls  of  his 
people.  There  are  features  in  it  to  be  looked  at  by  you  all 
in  common,  so  that  your  hearts  may  burn  together,  while 
you  gaze.  One  Savior,  seen  by  all  and  the  same  to  all, 
surely  ought  to  make  you  realize,  in  your  fraternal  sympa- 
thy, the  communion  of  the  Saints,  and  produce  that  proof 
of  3'our  discii)leship  which  your  Master  demands,  "that  ye 
love  one  another."  And  there  are  features  in  it  to  be 
noticed  by  each  one  of  you  separately.  Christ  has  been 
making  a  special  revelation  of  himself  to  each  one  of  you, 
in  all  his  dealings  with  you  as  individuals.  Fail  not  to  see 
him  in  this!  Recognize  your  Savior's  hand  in  every  event! 
Behold  him  walking  side  by  side  with  you  in  every  scene! 
Hear  his  voice  saying,  "it  is  I,"  m  the  wrath  of  the  temp- 
est, no  less  than  in  the  balmy  sunshine!  And  with  hearts 
burning  at  the  tokens  he  has  given  you,  of  his  mercy  and 
his  faithfulness,  put  on  record  your  grateful  testimony,  with 
the  Psalmist  to-day,  "Come,  and  hear,  all  ye  that  fear 
God,   and  I  will  declare  what  he  has  done  for  my  soul!" 


MARTHA,  THE  BUSY  HOUSEKEEPER. 

JUNE  25,  1&53. 


"And  Jesus  answered  and  snid  unto  her,  'Martha,  Martlia, 
thou  art  careful  antl  troubled  about  many  tilings;  but  one  thing 
is  needful,  and  Mary  has  chosen  that  good  part,  which  shall  not 
be  taken  away  from  her.'  ''—Luke  10:41.43. 


THE  Bible  here  takes  us  into  the  retreats  of  domestic 
life.  Humble,  every-day  characters  are  introduced  to 
our  view.  The  faults  and  the  virtues  of  two  lowly 
village  women  are  allowed  a  place  in  the  book  of  God. 
This  is  quite  in  accordance  with  the  object  for  which  that 
book  professedly  was  given ;  a  feature  in  it  that  belongs 
necessarily  to  that  office  which  it  undertakes  to  exercise,  as 
a  complete  and  sufficient  guide"  to  man.  This  is  indeed  one 
of  the  marks  of  wisdom  that  prove  it  to  be  the  offspring 
of  a  Divine  mind — that  it  loses  sight  of  none  of  the  cir- 
cumstances and  conditions  in  which  man  is  called  to  act; 
and  in  which,  consequently,  he  may  need  instruction.  It 
has  something  for  everybody  in  every  position  and  relation. 
It  is  no  book  of  poetry,  dealing  with  imaginary  personages; 
no  book  of  speculation,  legislating  for  a  Utopian  world.  It 
was  written  for  men  and  women,  just  as  we  see  them 
every  day  and  everywhere.  It  is  adapted  to  the  case  of 
the  housekeeper  no  less  than  that  of  the  monarch.  It  gives 
rules  for  regulating  the  economy  of  the  lireside,  no  less 
than  the  policy  of  cabinets  and  courts.  Jesus  visited  the 
home  of  Martha  and  Mary,  and  from  what  he  saw  and  said 

227 


228  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

there,  as  recorded  in  the  sacred  narrative,  we  may  gather 
several  hints,  which  may  be  applioaljle  to  all  homes.  It 
becomes  us  to  be  diffident  in  ascribing  motives  to  the  Deity; 
but  seeing  the  use  which  has  been  actuall}'  made  of  this 
incident  by  introducing  it  into  the  Bible,  we  shall  probably 
be  safe  in  saying  that  in  paying  this  visit  to  the  sisters  of 
Bethany  (or  at  least  in  having  it  recorded),  our  Lord  de- 
signed to  furnish  a  general  intimation  of  the  faults  and 
dangers  and  duties    which    attend  domestic  life    everywhere. 

Let  us  turn  aside  with  him  to  the  humble  Judean  cot- 
tage where  he  has  stopped  on  his  way  to  Jerusalem,  to  be 
refreshed  by  the  hospitality  of  the  pious  and  affectionate  in- 
mates; and  guided  by  his  own  judgment  in  the  case,  let  us 
inquire  what  there  was  to  be  condemned  and  what  approved 
in  the  conduct  of  the  two  sisters.  "Martha,  Martha,"  says 
Christ  to  the  one,  "thou  art  careful  and  troubled  about 
many  things."  This  was  a  mild,  but  decided  rebuke.  The 
Lord  saw  something — perhaps  much — in  the  disposition 
which  led  Martha  to  be  careful  and  troubled,  which  he 
deemed  repi'ehensible.  All  we  know  or  can  divine  of  this 
disposition,  we  must  infer  from  the  two  simple  tacts  stated 
in  the  narrative — that  while  Jesus  sat  in  her  house  she  was 
cumbered  about  much  serving — and  that  in  an  impatient 
spirit  she  came  to  the  Lord  complaining  of  her  sister  that 
she  had  left  her  to  serve  alone,  and  asking  him  to  bid  her 
come  and  help  her.  These  two  simple  facts,  however,  lay 
the  ground  for  a  very  fair  conjecture  that  the  offence  which 
is  rebuked  in  the  text  was  one,  or  all  of  several  things 
which  I  will  proceed  to  mention. 

And  first,  may  not  Martha  have  been  influenced  on  this 
occasion  by  a  worldly  pride — by  the  ambition  of  a  carnal 
mind?  Christ  was  her  guest,  and  she  seems  to  have  re- 
solved that  the  very  best  she  could  do,  the  very  utmost 
her    skill    and    means    could    furnish,     should    be    provided. 


>rARTHA,     THE    BUSY    HOUSEKEEPER.  220 

Sbe  did  not  stop  to  inquire  what  was  naost  agreeable  to  him 
— what  was  most  consonant  with  his  tastes  and  habits  and 
witli  his  purposes  in  visiting  her  house.  She  seized  the 
opportunit}'  afforded  liy  his  coming  for  wiiat,  according  to 
her  mode  of  life,  would  be  called  a  great  entertainment. 
It  mattered  not  that  something  less  would  have  sufficed  for 
Christ;  nothing  less  would  suffice  for  herself.  A  little  care 
and  trouble  might  have  done  for  him;  it  wonld  not  do  for 
herself.  A  few  things  might  have  abundantlv  satisfied  his 
desires;  many  things  must  be  got  ready  before  she  could  be 
satisfied  herself.  In  all  this  labor  and  liberalit}"  therefore, 
she  was  consulting  her  own  pleasure,  rather  than  that  of 
her  Lord.  She  was  serving  Martha,  the  lordly  mistress, 
rather  than  Jesus,  the  lowly  guest.  She  was  aiming  at 
saving  herself  from  mortification,  and  not  her  master  from 
disappointment.  It  was  pride — ambition — all  the  while, 
that  was  keeping  her  so  cumbered  with  serving,  and  so 
careful  and  troubled  about  many  things,  though  she  doubt- 
less thought  it  was  nothing  but  love  for  the  Lord.  And 
hence  it  was,  probably,  that  the  Lord  rebuked  her.  Sup- 
posing this  to  have  been  one  of  the  faults  at  which  the 
Savior  aimed  his  condemnation,  we  maj^  interpret  his  lan- 
guage as  conveying,  to  all  who  are  in  Martha's  situation,  a 
hint  as  to  their  danger  of  falling  into  the  same  fault;  and 
a  caution  to  be  watchful  against  it.  It  is  not  by  any 
means  to  the  high  state  and  broad  spheres  that  the  self- 
seeking,  self-exalting  propensities  of  human  nature  limit 
themselves.  It  is  not  only  in  parliamentary  halls  and  upon 
battlefields  that  triumphs  are  sought  and  trophies  gath- 
ered. There  are  more  Ca'sars,  a  thousand-fold,  in  the 
world,  than  those  that  wear  the  purple  and  sit  upon  a 
throne.  The  cottage  of  a  Martha  may  contain  the  soul  of 
an  Emperor.  The  domain  of  domestic  life  ma}'  be,  and 
very  often  is,   invaded  by  a  spirit  of  ambition,  and  the  lust 


230  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

for  ostentation  and  distinction.  You  may  go  into  many  a 
dwelling  and  find  tLie  master  or  the  mistress  "cumbered 
about  much  serving,''  and  "careful  and  troubled  about 
many  things,"  and  when  you  ask  why,  the  answer  will  be, 
not  because  the  comfort  of  the  family  demands  it — not  be- 
cause any  real  interests  of  mind  or  body  require  it — not 
because  good  taste  demands  it,  or  is  to  be  gratified  by  it — 
but  simply  because  of  the  desires  of  the  parties  to  eclipse 
or  outshine  their  neighbors — simply  because  a  luxurious 
imagination  or  a  fondness  for  display  or  a  craving  for  pre- 
eminence have  led  them  to  adopt  a  splendid  ideal,  accord- 
nic  to  whicli  tlie  style  and  method  of  their  establishment 
must  be  adjusted.  There  is  an  uneasy,  discontented  strain- 
ing after  something  superlative  in  all  tlieir  arrangements. 
Pride  is  the  real  housekeeper  in  such  dwellings;  and  pride 
is  a  fastidious  and  unreasonable  and  extravagant  thing — a 
manager  that  has  no  standard  to  follow  or  aim  at  in  its 
administration,  but  this  single  one — to  go  beyond  and  get 
above  everybody  else's  standard. 

Now  in  all  such  dwellings  the  Savior  would  find  some- 
thing to  condemn.  Not  that  Christianity  is  opposed  to  the 
exercise  of  a  refined  taste,  or  the  employment .  of  the  arts 
of  embellishment,  in  the  construction  and  furnishing  of  our 
homes;  not  that  it  pi'ohibits  the  exhibition  of  a  generous 
liijerality  towards  our  neighbors  and  friends;  this  would  be 
to  set  itself  against  the  God  ot  nature  who  has  enriched 
the  whole  structure  and  economy  of  the  physical  world  with 
forms  of  beauty  and  bountifulness.  Christianity'  rather  en- 
courages these  things.  Its  tendenc}^  is  to  purify  and  soften 
mankind,  to  promote  neatness,  courteousness,  and  even  ele- 
gance in  domestic  life,  to  favor  every  method  and  device 
by  which  innocent  enjoyment  can  be  obtained  for  ourselves, 
or  created  for  others,  to  make  the  myrtle  tree  supplant  the 
briar,  and  the  desert  rejoice   and  blossom    as  the   rose;    but 


MARTHA,     THE    nUSV    nOUSEKEEPER.  231 

a,ll  that  is  selfish  aud  aspiring,  all  that  serves  only  to  pam- 
per the  lust  of  the  flesh,  the  lust  of  the  eye,  aud  the 
pride  of  life,  all  strife  for  pre-eminence,  all  vain-glorious 
parade,  all  anxiety  and  care  engendered  b}'  the  spirit  of 
competition,  or  envy,  or  arrogance,  all  extravagance  and 
pretension — Christianity  does  forbid.  IL  curbs  and  chastens 
the  inordinate  desires  of  the  natural  heart.  It  commauds 
men  to  take  with  thankfulness  whatever  good  God  has  al- 
lotted to  them,  instead  of  restlessly  grasping  after  the  most 
and  the  best,  which  by  any  possibility  they  may  get.  It 
bids  them  be  kindly  affectioned  one  toward  another,  in 
honor  preferring  one  another,  instead  of  being  unkindly 
emulous,  one  of  another.  It  says,  "he  that  humbleth  him- 
self shall  be  exalted."  "He  that  is  greatest  among  j-ou  let 
him  be  as  the  younger  and  he  that  is  chief  as  he  that 
doth  serve."  "Let  your  conversation  be  without  covetous- 
ness,  and  be  contented  with  such  things  as  you  have."  It 
rebukes  Martha,  wherever  it  finds  her,  not  because  she  is 
hospitable,  not  because  she  is  industrious,  not  because  she 
would  have  her  home  neat  and  comfortable  and  pleasant, 
but  because  craving  the  admiration  of  her  neighbors,  intent 
upon  the  exhibition  of  her  own  skill  and  liberality,  rather 
than  a  wise  and  decent  management  of  her  household, 
striving  after  a  state  and  style  suggested  by  j^ride  rather 
than  a  regard  for  the  real  convenience  of  her  family  or 
guest,  she  has  cumbered  herself  with  superfluous  services, 
and  abandoned  herself  to  expensive  and  immoderate  cares 
and  troubles.  The  spirit  of  the  Lord  is  a  spirit  ot  libertj', 
because,  amongst  other  things,  it  sets  men  free  from  bond- 
age to  that  ambition,  which  is  naturally  predominant  in  the 
human  heart;  which  makes  men,  everywhere,  the  slaves  of 
selfish  appetites  and  passions,  of  extravagant  whims  and 
fashions,  and  as  a  consecinencc,  of  unwholesome  anxieties, 
and  excessive  and  misdirected  etforts  and  labors. 


232  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

Leaving  this  point,  I  suppose  we  may  detect  in  the 
conduct  of  Martha,  indications  of  another  error,  which  is 
peculiar!}-  incident  to  domestic  life;  and  that  is  the  setting 
an  undue  value  upon  the  means  of  earthly  comfort,  and 
upon  a  well-furnished  and  well-regulated  home  as  the  source 
and  condition  of  happiness.  We  study  such  questions  as 
"what  shall  we  eat"  and  "what  shall  we  drink"  and  "where 
withal  shall  we  be  clothed,"  with  an  earnestness  and  pain- 
fulness  which  is  altogether  disproportioned  to  their  real 
merits.  Could  you  have  seen  Martha,  on  the  day  of 
the  Savior's  visit,  you  might  have  thought  from  her 
anxious  face  and  hurried  steps,  that  she  was  engaged  in 
the  most  important  business  of  life;  that  if  she  succeeded 
in  accomplishing  the  object  she  had  in  hand,  she  would 
have  attained  a  satisfaction  and  a  reward  which  were  suffi- 
cient to  compensate  her  fully  for  the  employment  of  all  her 
faculties  of  mind  and  body,  taxed  to  the  utmost  stretch  of 
their  capacities.  And  so  we  might  sa}"  of  many  another 
head  of  a  household,  "he  or  she  is  toiling  for  the  food 
and  raiment,  for  the  comfort  and  adornment,  for  the  en- 
riching and  aggrandizing  of  their  household,  as  if  these 
constituted  the  great  end  ot  life;  as  if  these  things  being 
secured,  happiness  complete  and  permanent  would  be  the 
certain  result."  Men  do  not  labor  for  heaven  as  they  labor 
to  furnish  and  decorate  their  homes.  Even  Christian  men, 
often,  do  not,  if  appearances  tell  the  truth.  And  what  is 
the  inference?  Clearly  that  they  expect  to  find  in  these 
homes — their  earthly  inheritance — a  satisfaction  and  a  re- 
ward which  outweigh  all  the  advantages  and  pleasures  which 
they  are  taught  to  associate  with  the  enjo3'ment  of  heaven. 
I  do  not  sa}'  they  deliberatel}"  make  such  a  comparison  and 
decision;  but,  I  mean  to  say,  the}'  devote  themselves  to  the 
acquisition  of  the  things  which  promise  them  happiness  in 
this  world,    with    a    zeal    and    assiduity,   which  the}'    do  not 


MARTHA,     THE    BUSY    HOUSEKEEPER.  233 

show  ill  tbe  pursuit  of  an}'  other  tiling;  and  hence,  that 
they  treat  these  things  as  being  primary  in  importance  and 
supreme  in  value.  Now  all  this  is  as  unwise  and  useless, 
as  it  would  be  for  a  traveler,  who  was  on  a  hast}^  march 
through  a  desert,  to  give  himself  up  to  the  exclusion  of 
all  concern  respecting  the  place  where  he  was  going,  and 
the  arrangements  which  were  requisite  for  his  well-being 
there — in  order  to  the  embellishing  of  his  tent,  to  the 
drapery  and  the  fringe  which  sliould  ornament  his  bed,  and  the 
the  deli(nicies  which  should  load  his  table.  You  would  laugh 
at  the  childishness,  if  you  di<l  not  more  seriously  condemn 
the  improvidences  and  folly  of  such  a  man.  Aiid  so,  Christ 
rebuked  Martha  when  he  saw  her  toiling  to  prepare  and  ac- 
cumulate the  good  things  of  this  life,  with  an  anxiety  and 
eagerness,  which  he  knew,  their  instrinsic  worth  and  their 
power  to  bestow  happiness,  did  not  justify.  And  so,  he 
says  to  men  everywhere,  as  he  sees  them  tasking  hand  and 
brain  in  the  effort  to  gather  around  them  the  conveniences 
and  luxuries  and  elegances  of  this  world,  "labor  not  lor 
the  meat  which  perisheth,  but  for  that  meat  which  endureth 
unto  everlasting  life!"  "Lay  not  up  for  yourselves  treas- 
ures upon  earth,  where  moth  and  rust  doth  corrupt  and 
where  thieves  break  through  and  steal,  i)ut  lay  up  for 
yourselves  treasures  in  heaven!"  "As  pilgrims  and  strangers 
abstain  from  fleshly  lusts,  which  war  against  the  soul!" 
"Make  to  yourselves  friends  of  the  mammon  of  unrighteous- 
ness" (that  is  worldly  possessions  of  any  kind),  "do  not 
regard  them  and  depend  upon  them  as  an  ultimate  portion, 
since  they  cannot  satisfy  you  and  will  not  remain  with  you 
long,  but  make  of  them  friends  and  helpers,  use  them  as 
subordinate  to  a  higher  good,  for  which  they  may  pre- 
pare you,  that  when  ye  fail  they  may  receive  you  (or  open 
the  way  for  3'ou),  into  everlasting  habitations.  '  In  all 
such    counsels    tbe    Lord    is    saying    to    these    busj',    mis- 


234  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

guided  experimenters,  "why  cumber  yourselves  with  such 
hard  serving?  Why  be  so  careful  and  troubled  about 
many  things?  Your  toil  will  never  be  repaid.  Your  ac- 
quisitions, when  possessed,  will  not  meet  your  expecta- 
tions. The  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away.  The  time 
is  short,  it  remaineth  that  they  that  have  wives  be  as 
though  they  had  none,  and  they  that  weep  as  though  the}' 
wept  not,  and  they  that  rejoice  as  though  they  rejoiced  not, 
and  they  that  buy  as  though  they  possessed  not.  Tt  is  la- 
boring for  naught — for  that  which  satisfieth  not— to  spend 
life  in  building  your  houses  and  adorning  your  grounds  and 
rearing  your  -families,  if  you  have  nothing  more  and  noth- 
ing better  to  depend  upon,  as  your  security  for  happiness 
for  these  things;  for  they  may  disappoint  you,  and  they 
must  leave  you;  and  just  in  proportion  to  the  value  you 
have  set  upon  them,  and  the  trust  you  have  reposed  in 
them,  will  be  the  loss  you  will  suffer  when  they  do  disap- 
point or  leave  you.  Think  of  the  rich  man,  who  in  the 
excess  of  his  prosperity  had  to  pull  down  his  old  barns  and 
build  greater  that  he  might  find  store-room  for  his  fruits 
and  goods,  as  that  sudden  message  came  checking  his  pros- 
perity and  disappointing  his  anticipated  enjoyment — "thou 
fool,  this  night  thy  soul  shall  be  required  of  thee,  then 
whose  shall  those  things  be  which  thou  hast  provided!" 
Estimate,  if  you  can,  the  blankness,  the  distress,  the  despair, 
with  which  his  mind  must  have  been  overwhelmed!  Oh, 
fool,  indeed,  to  have  staked  his  all  upon  a  thing  so  unsub- 
stantial as  earthly  goods,  and  a  thing  so  frail  as  human 
life!  He  had  striven  hard  to  add  field  to  field,  he  had  wet 
his  land  with  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  he  had  spent  years 
of  weary  toiling  and  scheming  to  get  to  his  present  acme  of 
success;  and  now  the  bubble  bursts!  Why  did  he  cumber 
himself,  so?  Whj^  allow  himself  to  be  so  careful  and 
troubled    about    a  bubble  which    was    soon    to    burst?     And 


1* 

MARTHA,     THE    BUSY .  HOUSEKEEPER.  235 

what  are  those  doing  araoug  us  who  are  working  for  the 
accumulation  of  riches,  for  the  increase  of  their  means  of 
pleasure,  for  the  gratification  of  their  affections  and  appe- 
tites, entwining  their  heart  strings  closer  and  close;r  about 
their  loved  ones  and  friends,  inventing  new  charms  and  new 
ties  to  bind  them  to  their  homes,  harvesting  the  fruits  of 
their  daily  toil  and  laying  out  broad  schemes  and  picturing 
long  vistas  of  happiness  for  the  future — what  are  the}'  do- 
ing if  they  are  seeking  for  themselves  no  better  portion 
than  this,  but  cumbering  themselves  and  allowing  them- 
selves to  be  careful  and  troubled  about  a  bubble  which  is 
sure  to  burst?  This  world,  I  know,  has  no  claims  so 
strong,  no  interests  so  dear,  no  joys  so  sweet,  as  those 
which  appertain  to  the  family;  but  these  claims  are  not 
paramount,  these  interests  are  not  ultimate,  these  joj^s  are 
not  superlative.  The  favor  of  God  and  the  blessedness  of 
heaven  are  things  which  are  better  and  more  important  and 
more  needful  than  they. 

But  the  error  of  Martha  may  have  been  something 
more  serious,  even,  than  this.  At  least  there  is  an  error 
more  serious  than  this,  which  those  in  Martha's  situation 
may  commit.  It  is  that  of  making  fidelity  to  the  duties  of 
domestic  life  equivalent  to,  or  identical  with,  the  religion 
of  the  (jospel.  Nothing  is  more  certain,  judging  from  the 
common  expressions  of  the  people,  than  that  multitudes  are 
depending  upon  the  anxious  and  diligent  attention  the}' 
have  paid  to  the  wants  and  interests  of  their  families  as 
the  ground  upon  which  they  expect  to  be  saved.  If  you 
were  to  go  to  this  hard-working,  never-resting  father,  or 
this  careworn,  painstaking  mother,  and  say  to  each  of  them, 
"yOu  are  too  much  burdened  with  worldly  engagements, 
your  minds  are  too  much  absorbed  with  your  household 
affairs,  we  fear  you  are  neglecting  the  one  thing  needful, 
that  you  are  putting  out  of  view  the  great  business  of  life. 


236  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

the  prepa,ration  of  the  soul  for  heaven,"  you  would  very 
likely  be  told  in  reply,  '-why  is  not  this  piety?  Am  I  not 
doing  my  duty?  Am  I  not  a  good  parent?  Am  I  not  do- 
ing my  duty  in  watching  over  my  children,  in  providing 
for  them,  in  fitting  them  for  respectable  posts  in  the  world? 
Is  not  this  what  the  Bible  requires?"  Yes,  my  friend,  this 
is  what  the  Bible  requires.  It  is  right.  It  is  your  duty, 
provided  it  is  all  done  as  the  result  of  your  regard  for  the 
will  and  the  glory  of  God,  provided  it  has  been  coupled 
always  with  a  filial  love  and  subjection  to  (lod,  and  with 
an  humble  dependence  upon  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  as  the 
only  savior  of  sinners;  but  is  it  so  witii  you?  Your  very 
devotion  to  your  families  may  have  been  the  means  of 
keeping  you  from  honoring  God  and  believing  in  his  Son. 
You  may  be  amiable,  affectionate,  benevolent  and  yet  not 
pious.  Martha  may  be  wearing  herself  out,  she  may  be 
bringing  furrows  into  her  cheeks,  and  gi'ay  hairs  upon  her 
brow,  by  her  untiring  labor  and  self- torturing  solicitude  for 
her  household.  Her  kindred  may  not  liave  words  strong 
enough  to  express  their  gratitude  for  her  service  and  sacri- 
fice, and  yet  God,  all  the  while,  may  be  uttering  the  com- 
plaint, "My  daughter  thou  hast  never  given  me  thine 
heart."  And  Christ  may  be  all  the  while  bringing  against 
her  the  fatal  charge,  "thou  hast  loved  father  and  mother, 
son  and  daughter  more  than  me,  and  thou  canst  not  be  m}' 
disciple."  To  him  who  knows  the  heart,  our  Lord  has  said, 
a  thing  may  be  an  abomination  which  among  men  is  highl}' 
esteemed;  and  on  the  ground  of  which  men  are  accustomed 
to  justify  themselves.  It  may  be  so  with  these  much-lauded 
domestic  virtues.  Estimable,  lowly,  useful  as  they  are, 
the}'  may  be  tainted  and  defiled  with  the  sin  of  idolatlry, 
and  so  become  offensive  in  the  sight  of  God  rather  than 
meritorious.  They  may  give  occasion  for  the  greatest 
wrong  which  can    be  infHicted    upon  him — that  of    rejecting 


MARTHA,     THE    HUSY    HOUSEKEEPER.  237 

him  aiul  degmdiiig  him  for  the  suke  of  serving  tuul  pleas- 
ing a  creature — that  of  thrusting  him  from  the  heart,  be- 
cause that  heart  has  lavished  all  its  love  and  devotion  upon 
earthly  relatives  and  friends. 

And  still  another  error  indicated  by  Martha's  case,  and 
especially  lial)le  to  occur  in  domestic  life,  is  the  surrendering 
of  the  mind  to  secular  duties  to  such  a  degree,  that  re- 
ligious duties  are  slighted  or  omitted  altogether.  On  this 
point  those  who  have  the  charge  of  families  need  to  be 
solemnly  warned.  There  is  many  another  house  besides 
that  one  in  Bethany,  where  the  Savior's  voice  fails  to  get 
a  hearing;  many  another  person  hinders  this  busy,  bustling 
woman  of  whom  I  am  speaking,  who  has  been  too  much 
cumbered  with  serving  and  too  full  of  cares  and  troubles, 
to  stop  to  listen  to  the  counsels  and  instructions  of  Jesus. 
It  is  really  hard  amidst  the  multiplied  anil  varied  claims  of 
household  engagements,  to  find  the  time  and  the  heart  to 
attend  to  the  duties  of  religion.  I  know  this  will  be  the 
testimony  of  many  who  hear  me.  You  say  you  are  driven 
from  morning  till  night  by  the  perpetual  demands  upon 
your  thought  aud  attention,  which  grow  out  of  the  occur- 
rences, ordinary  and  extraordinary,  of  your  domestic  life. 
You  have  no  composure,  no  opportunity  for  retirement,  no 
leisure,  no  tranquility.  Hence,  you  have  given  up  secret 
prayer.  Perhaps,  you  no  more  commune  with  your  God  in 
your  closet.  You  have  given  up  reading  the  Scripture,  and 
meditating  upon  its  truths.  Your  mind  is  tossed  about  and 
swept  onward  by  a  tide  of  unholy  influences,  so  that  it 
cannot  even  on  the  Sabbath  acquire  serenity  and  seriousness 
enough  to  apply  itself  comfortably  to  spiritual  things.  This 
is  all  very  deplorable,  and,  let  me  say,  very  wrong;  and 
very  dangerous  too.  Martha  must  surely  renounce  the 
name  of  a  disciple  of  Christ,  if  Christ  comes  within  her 
doors,   and    she  consents  to    lose  all    the  precious  words    he 


238  A  pastor's  valeuictoey. 

may  have  to  say.  Martha  surely  is  most  unwisely  cum- 
bered with  serving,  she  surely  is  allowing  her  cares  and 
troubles  to  engross  her  too  much,  when,  as  a  consequence, 
she  must  be  divorced  day  after  day  from  the  Savior  and 
the  Holy  Spirit.  My  Christian  friends,  do  not  excuse  your- 
selves too  readily  in  this  matter!  Your  engagements  and 
interruptions  may  be,  and  no  doubt  are  many.  Every  home 
abounds  with  them,  petty  often,  perhaps,  but  none  the  less 
urgent  and  harrassing.  To  be  good  masters  and  mistresses, 
good  parents  and  neighbors,  you  must  submit  to  many  an- 
noyances and  distractions,  but  nothing  can  relieve  you  from 
3'our  obligation  to  be  good  servants  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ.  And  in  order  to  do  this  you  must  attend  to  the 
duties  of  private,  personal  religion.  You  must  maintain 
the  disposition  and  find  the  opportunity  to  wait  upon  God 
daily.  You  must  keep  up  prayer  and  the  study  of  the 
Bible,  and  devout  reading  and  meditation,  and  self-exami- 
nation, and  attendance  upon  the  public  worship  of  God. 
Otherwise  your  religion  will  decline  and  dwindle  away,  till 
every  evidence  of  it  is  gone,  or  only  enough  of  it  remains 
to  keep  your  conscience  uneasy  and  your  heart  miserable, 
amidst  the  cares  and  troubles  to  which  you  have  abandoned 
yourselves.  Oh,  brethren,  keep  Christ  in  your  dwellings! 
Court  the  presence  of  the  Holy  Spirit  there!  Endeavor  to 
have  the  blessing  of  your  Heavenly  Father  abiding  there! 
You  will  be  doing  more  for  yourself  and  your  families  by 
these  means,  depend  upon  it,  than  you  can  ever  do  by  all 
your  eflforts  and  pains  and  sacrifices. 

And  now,  I  might  instance  as  another  fault  apparent 
in  Martha,  a  fretful  and  impatient  temper.  Hurrying  to 
and  fro  as  she  was  in  her  haste  and  eagerness,  she  wished 
to  drive  everything  and  everybody  else  along  with  her.  She 
could  not  bear,  therefore,  to  see  her  sister  differently  em- 
ployed.     She  was  ready  to  condemn    her  because  her  tastes 


MARTHA,    THE    BUSY    HOUSEKEEPER.  239 

and  feelings  did  not  coincide  with  her  own;  and  she  ac- 
cordingly (with  very  questionable  propriety)  complained  of 
her  to  Christ  and  requested  him  to  rebuke  her.  Is  not  this 
incident  true  to  nature?  And  are  we  not  pointed  here,  to 
one  of  the  inlirmilies  and  sins  which  is  peculiarly  liable  to  be 
developed  in  domestic  life?  What  confession  do  you  more 
frequently  make  than  that  the  cares  and  troubles  of  your 
household  irritate  and  vex  you?  That  they  try  your  temper 
and  exhaust  your  patience?  What  fault  do  you  so  often 
have  to  reproach  yourselves  for,  as  the  exhibition  of  a 
petulant,  hasty,  irascible  spirit?  Then,  here,  is  a  reproof 
and  an  admonition  of  very  extensive  applicability  presented 
to  you  in  the  text.  Guard  against  the  temptations  to  fret- 
fulness  and  impatience  which  will  be  continually  springmg 
up  in  your  domestic  life!  And  let  it  be  an  argument  why 
you  should  not  sutler  your  minds  to  fall  too  much,  under 
the  influence  of  your  cares  and  troubles,  that  these  are 
very  likely  to  foster  a  fretful  and  impatient  disposition; 
Try  not  to  multiply  your  cares  and  troubles,  needlessly; 
And  invent  no  unreal  ones.  Learn  to  meet  those  which 
are  real  and  unavoidable,  cheerfully.  Nothing  is  well  done 
that  is  done  in  a  heat  and  passion.  Reprove  a  servant  or 
punish  a  child,  in  a  rage,  and  your  reproof  or  punishment 
will  do  little  or  no  good;  for  to  reprove  or  punish  to  good 
purpose  you  need  to  be  respected  and  loved  by  the  person 
reproved  or  punished.  And  no  one  can  be  respected  or 
loved  while  in  a  rage.  And  besides,  you  are  setting  an 
example  of  one  fault  all  the  while  you  are  reproving  or 
punishing  another.  "She  openeth  her  mouth  with  wisdom," 
says  Solomon  of  the  virtuous  woman,  "and  in  her  tongue 
is  the  law  of  kindness."  If  you  will  have  families,  you 
must  just  make  up  your  mind  to  have  cares  and  troubles; 
and  you    ought    therefore    to    anticipate    them,   and    prepare 


240  A    PASTORS    VALEDICTORY. 

yourselves  for  them.  You  ought  to  gird  yourselves  with 
patience  and  meekness,  you  ought  to  be  slow  to  wrath,  to 
be  prudent  and  deliberate,  to  be  gentle  even  in  firmness, 
and  tender  even  in  severity.  And  to  be  and  do  all  this, 
you  ought  to  cry  to  God  for  daily  grace  as  you  do  for 
daily  bread. 

And  one  point  more  is  suggested  by  the  case  of 
Martha,  to  which  I  shall  allude  in  closing.  Her  sister 
was  anxious  to  sit  as  a  learner  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  The 
opportunity  was  a  rare  one,  to  become  acquainted  with  the 
Gospel — to  gain  a  spiritual  blessing.  Martha  would  have 
prevented  this  improvement,  that  she  wished  to  make  of 
this  opportunity.  The  Savior  evidently  condemned  her  for 
interfering  with  so  reasonable  and  pious  a  design.  The  bus- 
iness of  the  household  might  even  have  been  more  pressing 
than  it  was,  and  yet  the  business  of  saving  a  soul  was 
something  which  would  have  been  more  pressmg  still ;  and 
it  was  a  profane  hand  that  Martha  would  have  laid  upon 
her  sister  when  she  would  have  thrust  her  back  fi'om  the 
wells  of  salvation.  The  pressure  of  domestic  duties  must 
not  make  us  indifferent  to  the  spiritual  interests  of  our  de- 
pendents. We  must  take  care  that  nothing  in  our  regimen 
or  method  in  our  homes  shall  puc  an  obstacle  in  the  way 
of  the  piety  of  our  families.  Christ  will  judge  us  strictly, 
we  may  be  assured,  for  every  rule  or  custom  that  has  a 
tendency  to  keep  our  children  or  servants  from  his  feet. 
Let  us  rather  by  our  example  and  precept  and  influence  en- 
deavor to  bring  them  all  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Savior! 
Let  us  open  to  them  freely  the  advantages  of  the  Sabbath, 
encouraging  them  to  make  the  best  use  of  the  time  that 
God  has  given  them  for  gaining  the  preparation  they  need 
for  his  heavenly  kingdom!  Let  us  see  to  it  that  when  our 
households  meet  us  at  the  judgment-bar,  they  shall  have  no 


MARTHA,    THE    BUST    HOUSEKEEPER. 


241 


occasion  for  saying  tliat  tbrougU  the  much  serving  ancl 
many  cares  and  troubles  with  which  we  cumbered  ourselves 
and  them,  they  were  denied  the  privilege  of  learning  from 
Jesus  the  tidings  of  his  great  salvation! 


THE  DENIAL  OE  MOSES'  PRAYER. 

.SEPXEMBEK  25,  1852. 


"I  pray  thee,  let  me  go  over,  and  see  the  good  land  that  is 
beyond  Jonhm,  that  goodly  luountain,  and  Lebanon.  Bnt  the  Lord 
was  wroth  with  me  for  your  saiies,  and  would  not  hear  me: 
and  the  Lord  said  unto  me.  Let  it  suffice  thee;  speak  no  more 
unto   me   of  this  matter. — Deutekonomv  3:25:20. 


THE  desire  which  Moses  expressed  in  this  prayer  was 
oue  whicli  lay  very  near  to  his  heart,  ami  it  was  most 
natural  that  it  should.  Canaan  was  the  land  of  prom- 
ise which  had  been  hovering  before  the  eye  of  the  Tsraelitish 
race  like  some  isle  of  beauty  on  the  ocean's  distant  verge, 
ever  since  the  covenant  which  God  had  made  with  Abraham. 
It  has  been  the  laud  of  expectation  to  wanderers  through 
the  wilderness,  attracting  to  it  their  most  anxious  thoughts, 
and  eager  hopes,  every  day  and  hour  since  the  exodus  from 
Egypt.  It  was  hard  to  die  without  touching  its  soil;  hard 
after  the  weariness  and  sutt'eriug  of  so  long  a  race  to  die 
without  grasping  the  goal.  And  especially  hard  to  one  like 
Moses  who  had  almost  carried  his  people  as  a  father  would 
a  child  in  his  arms,  and  whose  heart  had  learned  to  throb 
with  hat  v)t<'  tvish  to  see  his  charge  deposited  and  secured 
in  a  country,  and  a  home.  And  it  seems  to  us  alniost  un- 
just to  deny  him  so  natural  a  wish.  We  feel  almost  as  if 
the  boon  he  sought  was  but  the  due  reward  of  his  long  con- 
tinued and  arduous  labor.  The  husbandman's  toil  we  are 
apt    to    think,     is  but  receiving  its  fair  recompense  when  he 

242 


THE    DENIAL    OF    MOSES'    PRAYER.  243 

reaps  bis  crop.  But  Moses  after  all  his  protracted  and  com- 
plicated toil,  and  when  the  fruit  and  ripened  grain  was  just 
ready  to  be  gathei'ed,  must  quit  the  field,  and  leave  to 
other  hands  the  work  of  harvesting  the  golden  sheaves. 
God  had  said  it;  and  adhered  irrevoealtly  to  his  decree, 
"thou  shalt  not  go  in  thither  to  the  good  land;  let  it  suffice 
thee,   speak  no  more  unto  me  of  the  matter." 

We  see  here  an  instance  of  the  denial  of  jirayer;  and 
the  denial  of  it  though  the  circumstances  were  such  as 
seems  to  us,  to  have  made  the  granting  of  it  reasonable  and 
probable,  and  though  the  person  ottering  it  was  one  who 
had  enjoyed  in  an  unusual  measure  the  favors  of  God,  and 
who  had  prevailed  in  many  a  suit  before  where  it  would 
have  seemed  to  us  less  likely  that  he  would  have  prevailed. 
The  peculiarties  of  this  case  are  such  as  commend  it  to  us 
as  a  subject  for  study;  and  I  will  make  it  my  aim  this 
morning  to  develop  a  few  of  the  lessons  and  truths  which 
may  be  embodied  in  it. 

We  at  once  learn  from  it  the  fact  that  the  pray- 
ers of  a  good  man,  urgently  and  repeatedly  expressed, 
may  be  denied.  The  assurance  that  God  has  given  us 
that  he  will  hear  and  answer  prayer,  are  sufficient  to 
encourage  us  on  the  largest  scale,  to  practice  it,  and  suf- 
ficient to  make  us  depend  upon  it  far  more  than  we  do,  as 
a  means  of  obtaining  the  blessings  we  need.  So  strong  are 
these  assurances  that  it  has  become  an  aphorism  on  this 
subject,  that  "man  by  prayer  can  move  the  lever  that  moves 
the  world,"  as  if  prayer  could  command  the  very  omnipo- 
tence of  God.  The  aphorism  may  with  due  caution,  be 
adopted  as  true.  Ami  yet,  we  see  Moses,  with  whom  it  has 
been  no  uncommon  occurrence  to  move  the  arm  of  the  Almighty 
in  the  working  of  miracles,  baffled  completely  in  trying 
to  move  it  upon  the  occasion  before  us,  by  prayer.  God 
who    by    his    power  had  opened  a  path  for  him  through  the 


244  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

Red  Sea,  now  by  the  same  power  hedges  up  his  way  across 
Jordan,  and  bars  hnu  from  the  promised  land.  Now,  how 
shall  we  liarmonize  these  apparently  condictiug  facts?  1 
answer  by  recognizing  this  obvious  principle  that  prayer,  or 
anything  else,  can  never  move  the  arm  of  God  to  do  wrong. 
His  omnipotence  never  diverges  from  the  track  of  his  rec- 
titude. It  is  always  exercised  so  as  to  maintain  the  order, 
and  suljserve  the  ends  of  his  moral  government.  And  prayer 
will  seek  in  vain  to  touch  the  springs  of  his  omnipotence, 
if  the  direction  it  would  give  to  that  omnipotence  would  be 
counter,  in  any  way  to  his  rectitude,  or  to  the  order  and 
ends  of  his  moral  goveriuneut.  This  principle  Abraham 
recognized  when  he  was  interceding  for  Sodom.  "Shall  not 
the  Judge  of  all  the  earth  do  right?"  he  asks;  and  it  was 
because  he  supposed  it  would  not  be  right  that  the  good 
should  be  punished  with  the  wicked,  that  he  prayed  that  if 
tifty  righteous  men  should  be  found  in  the  city  it  might  escape. 
As  Abraham  here  intimates,  God  always  retains  his  office  of 
Judge  and  Ruler  of  the  earth;  and  knows  nothing  of  any 
other  office,  or  exercise  of  any  other  power,  which  opposes 
or  obstructs  this. 

When  it  is  wrong  to  grant  prayer  he  does  not  grant  it. 
It  is  our  happiness  as  needy  and  dependent  creatures  to 
know  that  as  our  kind  benefactor,  he  hears  and  answers 
prayer.  It  is  our  safety  as  ignorant  and  erring  ones,  to 
know  that  as  the  moral  Governor  of  the  universe  he  never 
hears  or  answer  prayer  when  it  is  not  right  to  do  so.  Were 
he  merely  the  answerer  of  prayer,  did  he  like  some  weak 
human  parent,  allow  himself  to  be  persuaded  and  controlled 
merely  by  the  wishes  of  his  children,  he  would  grant  us 
every  prayer,  however  much  we  or  others  might  have  occa- 
sion to  regret  his  unwise  indulgence  afterwards.  But  as  he 
is  a  judge  too,  in  the  earth,  as  his  policy  towards  men  is 
shaped  and  conducted  so   as    to   uphold    the    principles   and 


THE  DENIAL  OF  MOSES'  PRAYER.  245 

secure  the  results  wliicli  as  a  righteous  sovereign  he  is  bound 
to  regard,  he  must,  la  accordance  with  this  policy  disap- 
point his  children  in  all  their  unwise  and  improper  requests. 
And  it  is  really  as  much  for  their  good  as  for  his  own 
honor  that  he  does  so. 

As  an  illustration  of  this  let  me  use  the  allegory,  em- 
ployed in  one  place  hy  au  apostle,  of  the  body  and  its 
members.  The  foot  for  instance,  impatient  under  the  hard 
labor  to  which  it  is  subjected,  as  the  servant  of  the  whole 
body,  might  ask  to  be  released  from  its  uncomfortable  bond- 
age, and  separated  from  the  body.  But  would  he  who  made 
the  body  as  it  is,  who  has  inwoven  his  laws  with  its  very 
texture;  and  made  important  purposes  to  be  dependent  up- 
on its  actual  organization,  listen  to  such  a  request?  And  if 
he  should  would  it  not  be  to  mutilate  and  destro}'  the  mem- 
ber which  was  foolishly  hoping  for  benefit  from  the  favor 
for  which  it  had  petitioned?  Or  the  arm,  tortured  by  some 
painful  sore,  might  beg  to  be  relieved  from  its  sufferings 
by  having  the  cause  ot  it  at  once  removed?  But  God  mioht 
see  that  the  immediate  healing  of  the  sore  would  throw  dis- 
ease back  upon  the  whole  body,  an  event  which  would  in- 
flict its  calamitous  conse(iuences  upon  the  arm  as  well  as 
the  other  members  of  the  body,  while  in  the  ultimate  health 
which  its  temporary  sulfej-ing  was  to  be  the  means  of  givino- 
to  the  whole  body,  the  arm  would  share  in  common  with 
every  other  part.  Would  he  then  grant  its  request?  Man's 
best  security  for  happiness,  we  may  be  sure,  is  found  in 
the  permanence  of  the  moral  government  which  God  exer- 
cises over  us,  and  over  the  world  with  which  we  are  so 
lai-gely  identified,  and  it  would  be  a  thousand  times  better 
that  like  the  arm  and  the  foot  of  which  I  have  spoken,  we 
should  be  kept  in  a  position  which  is  uncomfortable  for  us 
or  refused  deliverance  from  some  grievance  which  distresses 
us,     than    that   one    principle    essential    to    that    government 


246  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

should  be  invaded,  or  one  end  contemplated  by  it  should 
be  defeated.  If  ever  there  was  a  case  in  which  out  of 
partiality  for  an  individual,  God  might  have  been  expected 
to  wave  CA'ery  otiier  office  in  order  to  appear  in  that  if  the 
answerer  of  prayer  it  was  this,  which  is  referred  to  in  our 
text.  Moses  surely  would  have  been  indulged  here  if  it 
were  even  possible  for  (lod  to  grant  the  request  of  a  creat- 
ure, without  regard  to  the  right  or  wrong  of  it.  lUit  Moses 
was  denied;  and  it  was  doubtless  for  the  upholding  of  some 
principle,  or  the  accomplishment  of  some  result  which  God, 
as  the  administrator  of  a  moral  government  in  the  earth 
could  not  abandon  that  he   was  denied. 

Consider  further  that  God  is  the  immutable  eneni}',  and 
the  inflexible  punisher  of  sin.  It  was  on  account  of  the  sin 
which  Moses  had  committed  at  the  water  of  Meribah,  (an 
account  of  which  you  will  find  in  the  20th  chapter  of  Num- 
bers,) that  God  had  declared  that  Moses  should  not  enter 
the  land  of  Canaan.  This  sin  was  not  one  which  we  should 
have  called  flagrant.  It  was  merely  a  distrust  of  God,  and 
an  impatience  of  temper  toward  the  people  excited  by  their 
complaint  at  their  want  of  water  in  the  wilderness.  As  the 
Psalmist  describes  it,  "they  the  people  provoked  his  spirit 
so  that  he  spoke  unadvisedly  with  his  lips." 

This,  according  to  the  con^jiion  estimate  of  men, 
would  have  been  regarded  as  a  very  venial  ofl'ence;  and  be- 
sides, it  had  been  followed  by  a  considerable  period  of 
active  and  unwavering  obedience  to  God;  so  that  if  a  man's 
good  deeds  can  atone  for  his  l)ad  ones,  here  was  an  ample 
compensation  rendered  by  Moses  to  God  for  his  faults.  If 
ever  sin  could  be  supposed  to  l)e  forgotten  by  God,  it  surel}' 
could  be  so  in  a  case  like  this.  If  ever  anj^  circumstances 
could  justify  the  presumption  that  sin  would  be  overlooked 
by  God,  it  was  such  circumstances  as  may  be  found  in  the 
life  of  Moses,    subsequently    to    the  occurrence    at  Meribah. 


THE    DENIAL    OF    llOSES'    PRAYER.  247 

But  his  sill  was  not  overlooked.  In  God's  memory  it  lived. 
It  clung  to  its  author  and  followed  him,  drawing  its  dark 
trail  along  the  track  of  his  lite,  till  at  last  when  the  Jor 
dan  had  been  reached  the  execution  could  no  longer  be 
delayed,  it  appeared  before  him  to  claim  the  threatened  pen- 
alty, and  threw  its  stern  barrier  between  him  and  the  goodly 
land  which  he  so  longed  to  tread.  And  his  earnest  and  oft 
repeated  prayers  were  unable  to  set  the  barrier  aside.  Now 
in  all  this,  Moses  is  made  to  us  the  expositor  of  three 
truths  connected  with  sin,  which  it  is  of  the  highest  import- 
ance that  men  sliould    know. 

One  is  that  God  marks  sin,  and  that  he  remembers  it. 
The  evil  passion  of  the  heart,  and  the  angry  words  upon 
the  lips,  does  not  escape  his  notice;  and  the  record  of  it 
lives  ineffacably  before  his  sleepless  eye.  Another  is  that  a 
threat  ot  punishment  follows  imraediatel}'  upon  the  commis- 
sion of  sin.  The  transgression  and  the  curse,  the  guilt  and 
the  penal  evil,  have  been  linked  together  from  the  beginning. 
If  they  were  not  separated  in  Moses,  case,  in  whose  case 
can  we  hope  to  see  them  separated?  And  the  third  truih 
is  that  nothing  but  a  special  warrant  or  revocation  from  <Tod 
can  authorize  a  hope  on  the  part  of  the  sinner  that  his  of- 
fence will  be  passed  over  without  punishment.  All  pre- 
sumption, or  conjecture,  or  hj'pothesis,  in*  such  a  case  is 
worthless.  Nothing  but  a  positive  assurance  from  God  that 
the  sentence  has  been  canceled,  and  the  sinner  absolved, 
can  give  a  good  hope  of  escape  from  punishment.  And  the 
penalty  accordingly  in  Moses  case  was  executed.  The  wages 
of  sin  were  demanded,  even  of  this  good  man.  Now  when 
we  see  judgment  thus  "beginning  at  the  house  of  God," 
and  taking  effect  upon  one  who  stood  so  eminent  in  (Jod's 
house,  may  we  not  ask  with  the  apostle  Peter,  "what  shall 
the  end  be  of  them  which  obey  not  the  Gospel  of  God?" 
Sin  and  its  penalty  like  the  fruit  and  the  tree    are    iusepar- 


248  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

alile  facts.  Wbat  is  the  condition  of  that  man  against 
whom  the  threat  of  a  just  punishment  has  gone  forth,  and 
who  is  yet  refusing  to  comply  with  the  recpiirements  of  that 
Gospel  which  ofi'ers  to  men  the  only  warrant  tiiey  can  have 
that  God  has  revoked  the  sentence  and  absolved  them  from 
their  liability  to  death?  You  may  argue  and  speculate  as 
much,  as  3'ou  please  about  the  matter  but  when  you  have 
done  all,  you  will  not  have  put  yourself  in  a  position  in 
which  3'ou  can  have  any  better  reason  for  l)elieving  that 
you  will  escape  from  the  threatened  penalty  of  sin  than 
Moses  had.  You  cannot  do  more  or  repent  more,  or,  pra)' 
more  than  he  did;  and  yet  the  edict  of  revocation  never  was 
issued  in  his  case,  and  his  sentence  stood,  therefore  was  inflex- 
ibly executed.  And  God  has  taught  us  that  it  is  in  the  Gospel 
alone  that  the  sinner  is  ever  to  find  a  warrant  or  assurance 
that  his  sentence  has  ))een  revoked.  lie  may  persuade  him- 
self that  he  will  not  be  punished,  but  he  has  no  other  evi- 
dence of    his    safety    than    his    own    gratuitous    assumpfions. 

He  has  no  pledge  from  God,  and  without  such  a  pledge 
his  condition  (to  say  the  most  of  it)  cannot  be  better  than 
that  of  Moses;  and  in  regard  to  him  we  have  seen  the  threat 
going  on  steadily  to  its  fulfdlment.  And  what  other  pros- 
pects can  the  sinner  ever  have? 

But  in  the  Gospel  we  have  offered  to  us  the  pledge 
which  we  need.  We  have  God's  seal,  his  sign  manual,  so 
to  speak,  put  to  the  promise,  "he  that  believeth  shall  be 
saved."  There  is  a  warrant  here,  assuring  him  that  the 
sentence  pronounced  against  him  is  revoked,  he  can  depend 
upon  it,  and  go  forth  from  his  prison  house  rejoicing  like 
an  acquitted  criminal.  But  in  the  absence  of  this  warrant, 
if  the  man  cannot  lay  his  hand  upon  the  Gospel  and  say, 
"I  have  got  m}'^  acquittance  here,"  the  sentence  stands 
against  him  in  all  its  entireness  and  force,  it  will  infallibly 
go  forward  in  due  time  to  execution. 


THE    DENIAL    OF    MOSES'    TRAYER.  240 

Oil,  is  it  not  a  fearful  thought  to  go  into  eternity,  to 
stand  before  the  bar  of  jour  judge,  without  your  warrant 
authenticated  by  himself,  absolving  you  from  the  penalty  of 
those  sins  which  are  to  be  arrayed  against  you  there? 
You  ma}'  have  arguments  innumerable;  speculations  and 
theories  innumerable;  good  deeds  and  prayers  innumer- 
able, but  if  you  have  not  your  warrant,  your  Gospel 
warrant,  the  only  one  which  bears  the  signature  of  God, 
your  sentence  stands  unrevoked,  and  as  surely  as  Moses  was 
compelled  to  meet  his,  and  die  out  of  Canaan,  so  you  will 
be  compelled  to  meet  yours,  and  be  banished  from  the  king- 
dom of  God. 

"He  that  belie veth  on  the  Son,"  it  is  written,  "hath 
eternal  life,  and  he  that  belieyeth  not  the  Son  shall  not  see 
life,  but  the  wrath  of  God  abideth  on  him."  Now  in  view 
of  all  that  I  have  said,  must  we  not  receive  the  denial  of 
Moses'  prayer  as  a  testimony  of  the  strongest  possible  kind 
in  favor  of  the  immutable  enmity  of  God  toward  sin,  and 
of  his  inflexible  determination  to  punish  it?  And  do  we  not 
see  how  it  was  thus  made  to  uphold  the  principles  and  sub- 
serve   the    ends    of    God's  moral  government  of    the    world? 

But  still  another  lesson  taught  us  by  that  event  is 
this,  that  God  is  jealous,  (to  use  a  scriptural  form  of  speech) 
of  his  own  glor}',  and  so  orders  his  policy  as  to  check  and 
rebuke  the  disposition  which  is  naturally  inherent  in  man  to 
claim  for  himself,  or  a  fellow  being,  the  honor  which  be- 
longs to  God.  The  human  instrument  is  very  apt  to  expand 
and  exalt  itself  so  as  to  eclipse  the  Divine  hand  which  has 
used  and  moved  it.  This  cannot  be  tolerated  consistently 
with  the  moral  government  which  God  exercises  amongst 
men,  and  so  he  puts  down  the  ambitious  instrument,  and 
by  its  abasement  forces  the  world  to  see  the  Divine  hand 
which  had  been  acting  through  the  instrument.  Hero-wor- 
ship is  generally  idolatry,   generally  an  act  of  treason  toward 


250  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

the  sovereign  who  has  said,  "thou  shalt  have  no  other  Gods 
before  me."  If  ever  there  was  a  mortal  who  occupied  a 
position  likely  to  attract  to  himself  this  hero-worship,  which 
men  are  so  ready  to  pa}-,'  it  was  Moses.  .For  to  whom 
did  God  ever  delegate  so  much  of  his  authority  and  power 
as  to  him?  Who  ever  was  admitted  to  such  measures  of 
intercourse?  Who  ever  climbed  such  dizzy  heights  of  inti- 
macy with  God  as  he?  And  if  ever,  in  after  days  of  de- 
generacy, the  truant  heart  of  the  Israelite  should  wander  like 
those  of  the  people  around  them  into  idolatry,  what  so 
likel)'  as  that  national  pride  should  deify  the  great  hero  who 
had  led  them  from  the  house  of  bondage,  and  that  altars 
should  be  raised  to  Moses,  and  the  shout  go  up,  "this  is 
thy  God  0  Israel?  Whether  this  should  be  so  or  not  it  was 
important  for  the  world  that  the  instrument  more  signally 
honored  by  God,  than  all  others,  should  be  shown  to  be 
after  all,  but  an  instrument,  in  itself  weak  and  worthless. 
And  so  Moses  was  made  sulTer,  a  dark  eclipse  when  the  star 
of  his  glory  might  be  said  to  be  just  at  the  point  of  cul- 
mination. Higher  and  higher  it  had  risen,  till  it  was  about 
to  plant  itself  in  full  orbed  splendor  in  the  zenith  when  the 
shadow  passes  over  it  and  its  radiant  track  loses  itself  in 
ine^xtricable  gloom.  Moses,  who  had  lived  so  like  a  god, 
must  die  an  infirm,  erring,  accountable  man.  He  must  die 
with  the  rebuke  of  Jehovah  upon  him;  die  humbled  by  being 
denied  so  natural  a  request,  as  that  he  might  touch  with 
his  feet  the  land  which  for  forty  years  he  had  been  toiling 
to  reach,  die  with  the  hand  of  God  which  had  lifted  him 
up  to  so  high  a  pitch  of  glory  thrusting  him  down  to  disap- 
pointment, and  disgrace,  .and  a  solitary  and  unknown 
grave. 

"He  that  glorieth  let  him  glory  in  the  Lord"  seems  to 
be  the  lesson  taught  to  the  world  by  this  closing  of  his 
career.     The    human   agent    must    perform    his    part    in    the 


THE    DENIAL    OK    MOSES'    PRAYER.  251 

drixma  of  affairs,  so  that  the  government  of  God  shall  be 
maintained  and  advanced,  not  weakened  and  undermined  by 
his  agency.  "TInto  Him  belongeth  the  kingdom  and  the 
power  and  the  glory  forever."  and  no  more  emphatic  enun- 
ciation of  this  fact  can  be  found  perhaps  than  we  have  in 
the  refusal  of  God  to  grant  to  Moses  the  long  cherished 
desire  of  his  heart. 

And  one  truth  more  involved  in  the  signification  of  the 
text,  is  that  labor  for  God  is  its  own  recompense,  or  that 
men  ought  to  serve  God  from  the  inherent  propriety  and 
goodness  of  the  thing,  and  not  merely  out  of  regard  for 
an  extrinsic  and  tangible  reward.  Whether  we  are  to  see 
the  fruit  to  which  our  labors  tend  or  not,  those 
lal)ors  ought  to  be  diligently  and  perseveringly  pros- 
ecuted. The  spirit  of  the  true  child  of  God  is 
not  a  mercenary  one.  It  is  a  spirit  which  acts  willingly 
and  spontaneousl}',  in  harmony  with  his  will.  It  says  "thy 
will  be  done,"'  by  a  law  of  nature,  because  it  is  the  will  of 
God  which  is  to  be  done,  that  will  which  all  creatures  when 
fulfilling  the  proper  business  of  their  being,  ought  to  be 
uniting  to  do.  It  is  natural  for  us  to  ask  a  reward  for  our 
services,  and  we  are  apt  to  make  the  obligation  to  render 
them  depend  upon  the  assurance  we  have  that  the  reward 
will  be  paid  in  the  form  and  measure  which  we  prescribe. 
In  other  words  it  is  for  our  own  sake,  and  not  God's  sake 
that  we  propose  to  serve  him.  He  would  have  a  better 
spirit  in  us.  He  would  have  us  serve  him  as  the  angels  in 
heaven  do,  not  as  hired  servants,  but  as  loving  children. 
So  Moses  wrought  and  wrought  long  and  well,  and  yet  died 
without  the  price  his  natural  feelings  so  anxiously  craved. 
So  many  another  Moses  has  risen  up  as  a  champion  of  the 
church  to  lead  her  out  of  bondage;  has  fought  her  battles, 
and  traveled  with  her  through  the  wilderness  and  then  died 
without    seeing    the    promised    land.       So    the   Pastor    labors 


252  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

for  bis  llock  autl  the  parent  for  his  children,  prays  that  he 
may  see  the  fruit  of  his  toil  in  the  salvation  of  those  for 
whom  his  soul  is  yearning,  and  dies  without  the  sight.  But 
all  have  had  an  ample  reward  in  being  permitted  to  labor 
for  God,  and  usually  this  is  the  only  reward  which  it  is  safe 
for  us  to  have,  while  liable  as  we  always  are,  in  the  flesh, 
to  be  betrayed  into  infirmity  and  sin.  Great  and  good  men 
have  appeared  from  time  to  time  in  the  world,  and  have 
gone  through  it  spending  their  strength  as  faithful  workers 
for  God,  and  then  died,  perhaps  in  reproach  and  obscurity, 
but  flinging  a.s  they  died  a  radiance  over  coming  centuries 
which  has  guided  to  God,  and  to  heaven  thousands  who 
were  born  after  their  names  had  been  forgotten;  and  others 
too;  bold  and  energetic  workers  whose  reward  has  come  in 
their  own  time,  and  to  whom  success  has  been  as  poison, 
intoxicating  the  brain,  and  deranging  the  heart,  till  the}' 
have  toppled  from  their  giddy  heights  and  died,  leaving  the 
world  to  mourn  that  such  blasted  genius  had  ever  been  born. 
•It  is  best  for  us,  ray  friends  that  it  should  be  as  God  or- 
dinarily arranges  it,  that  the  privilege  of  laboring  should 
be  taken  by  man,  as  his  true  and  proper  reward,  leaving  to 
God  himself  to  appropriate  the  gain  and  the  glory  of  his 
labor.  And  any  different  policy,  I  believe  a  little  reflection 
will  convince  us  would  be  altogether  inconsistent  with  the 
moral  government  which  God  maintains  over  men.  May  we 
not  see  then  why  on  this  account  the  prayer  of  Moses  was 
denied?  But  perhaps  in  connection  with  these  remarks  up- 
on the  denial  of  Moses'  prayer,  1  should  introduce  before 
closing,  another  fact  in  his  history,  which  the  Scriptures 
record,  which  after  all  looks  very  much  like  an  answer  to 
his  prayer.  In  the  form  in  which  he  wished  to  be  per- 
mitted to  enter  the  land  of  Canaan,  his  request  was  denied 
but  in  a  difl'erent  form  he  was  indulged  with  the  very 
privilege    which    he    sought.      Years  had  passed  on  since  he 


THE  DENIAL  OP  MOSES'  PRAYER.  253 

died  on  the  louely  top  of  Mount  Nebo,  centuries  with  all 
their  usual  vicissitudes  had  rolled  over  the  land,  when  on  a 
certain  day  on  another  mountain  top;  within  the  borders  of 
ancient  Canaan,  a  wondrous  group  was  gathered.  A  glory 
brighter  than  the  magnificence  of  earth  enveloped  them, 
and  of  one  of  the  group,  it  is  said,  "his  face  did  shine  as 
the  sun  and  his  raiment  was  white  as  the  light."  This  one 
was  the  Sou  of  God,  the  Divine  Messiah,  come  to  set  up 
the  true  kingdom  of  God,  and  to  enact  the  work  of  the 
world's  redemption,  upon  the  soil  of  Canaan.  The  end  for 
which  the  Israelites  had  been  chosen  and  preserved  in  fjgypt 
and  led  thence  into  the  country  which  God  had  promised  to 
their  fathers,  was  now  to  be  accomplished.  The  true  result 
for  which  Moses  had  labored  was  now  to  be  realized.  And 
now  Moses'  feet  do  touch  that  soil,  he  stands  where  he  had 
once  prayed  to  stand,  when  God  denied  his  prayer,  for  it 
is  Moses  who  is  here,  conversing  with  Christ  on  the  Mount 
of  Transfiguration.  God  had  granted  him  that  which  was 
better  than  the  boon  his  prayer  had  asked.  And  we  may 
well  believe  that  he  will  not  do  less  for  us.  Let  us  pray 
and  labor  on,'  and  though  now  it  may  be  his  policy  to 
disappoint  our  prayers,  and  leave  our  laliors  witliout  the  de- 
sired reward,  the  time  will  come  when  we  shall  stand  with 
Christ,  at  his  second  appearing,  and  learn  as  the  fruits  of 
His  redempti<m  are  gathered  home,  how  God  has  more 
than  answered  our  prayers,  and  more  than  recompensed  our 
labors,  which  seemed  to  us  all  unanswered  and  unrewarded 
when   we  went  to  our  graves    on    earth. 


THE   DEADNESS  OF  THE  PLEASURE- 
SEEKER. 

NOVEMBEK   15,  1857. 


"But  she  that  liveth  in  pleasure  is  dead  while  she  liveth."- 
I.  Timothy  5:6. 


THE  feminine  pronoun  is  used  in  this  proposition,  only 
because  it  is  connected  with  a  passage  in  which  tlie 
Apostle  had  been  speaking  of  a  particular  class  of 
females.  The  proposition  itself  is  general.  For  any  one  to 
live  in  pleasure,  is  to  be  dead  while  he  lives,  is  the  doc- 
trine enunciated.  It  is  a  doctrine  which  will  no  doubt 
sound  verj'  paradoxical  to  some;  for  in  the  phraseology  of 
a  large  portion  of  mankind,  to  live  in  pleasure,  is  the 
formula  by  which  they  describe  the  very  climax  and  per- 
fection of  living.  To  live  in  pleasure,  in  their  view,  is  not 
only  not  to  be  dead,  but  it  is  to  realize  life  in  its  highest 
form  and  degree.  It  is,  in  the  language  current  amongst 
them,  to  "enjoy  life,"  to  "be  making  the  most  of  life," 
and  to  show  that  one  "knows  how  to  live."  Now  across 
the  track  of  this  common  notion,  the  text  appears  throwing 
itself  in  direct  antagonism,  making  the  bold  declaration 
that  the  individual,  no  matter  who  he  may  be,  who  lives 
in  pleasure,  is  dead  while  he  lives.  And  is  not  then,  that 
popular  reproach,  that  the  Bible  is  the  enemy  of  pleasure, 
true?  me-thinks  I  hear  some  objector  exclaiming.  Is  it  not 
manifest  that  religion  does  lay  an  interdict  upon  human  en- 
joyment? that  those  who  would   lead  a  life  of  piety,  accord- 

254 


THE  DEADNESS  OF  THE  PLEASURE-SEEKER.       255 

ing  to  the  requirements  of  Christianity,  must  put  on  the 
mould's  cowl  or  the  nun's  veil,  and  turn  the  home  into  a 
cloister,  and  the  world  into  a  wilderness,  and  spend  their 
days  in  the  exercise  of  penance  and  mortification?  And  is 
there  not  good  ground  for  that  effort  which  certain  men  of 
literary  and  political  celebrity  are  making,  in  our  day,  to 
rid  society  of  the  yoke  of  evangelical  austerity,  by  turning 
the  Sabbath  into  a  holiday,  and  substituting  the  pleasure- 
garden  and  the  playhouse  for  the  Sanctuar}^,  and  the  dance 
for  the  prayer-meeting,  and  the  fairy-tale  and  the  novel  for 
the  catechism  and  tract?  No,  m}'  friends,  to  all  these  in- 
terrogatories, I  return  an  emphatic  no!  Religion  does  not 
merit  this  unamiable  character  j'ou  would  give  it,  nor  do 
those  who  practice  it  need  your  pity.  Most  true  it  is  that 
our  supreme  oracle,  on  the  subject,  says,  that  he  that  liveth 
in  pleasure  is  dead  while  he  liveth;  but  at  the  same  time 
we  hear  it  giving  forth  to  the  world  such  an  utterance  as 
this,  "rejoice  evei'more, "  calling  on  men,  not  only  to  be 
happy,  but  to  be  so  in  that  full  and  intense  form  which  is 
expressed  by  "rejoicing,"  and  not  only  to  be  so  occasion- 
ally, but  perpetually — "evermore."  We  find  David  praying 
under  the  direction  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  "satisfy  us  early 
with  thy  mercy,  that  we  may  rejoice  and  be  glad  all  our 
days."  We  find  Christ  saying  to  his  disciples,  "your  heart 
shall  rejoice,  and  your  joy  no  man  taketh  from  you."  And 
we  find  Paul  describing  Christians  as  those  who  "worship 
God  and  rejoice  in  Christ  Jesus."  Now,  it  is  very  evident, 
that  if  there  is  anything  to  be  found  in  the  experience  of 
Christians,  corresponding  to  the  import  of  these  terms,  the 
life  of  those  who  obey  the  Gospel  is  the  farthest  thing 
possible  from  that  state  of  dreariness  and  gloom  which  the 
objector  insinuates  it  to  be.  "Ah,  but,"  says  the  objector, 
"I  do  not  call  this  joj',  which  the  Bible  represents  the 
Christian  as  possessing.      Pleasure,   I  see    no   pleasure  in  it. 


256  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

My  pleasure,  the  Bible  does  forbid,  does  take  away  from 
me."  And  here,  the  objector  betrays  the  real  shape  and 
substance  of  his  charge  against  the  Bible.  It  amounts  to 
this,  and  no  more,  that  the  Bible  does  not  adopt  his  defini- 
tion of  pleasure;  and  the  fair  and  honest  way  of  stating 
his  charge  against  the  Bible  would  be,  not  that  it  is  the 
enemy  of  pleasure,  absolutely,  but  that  it  is  the  enemy  of 
pleasure  according  to  his  idea  of  it,  can  be  urged  against 
it  as  a  reproach,  and  can  be  justly  construed  into  an 
offence,  he  must  show  that  his  idea  of  pleasure  is  a  right 
one — one  that  will  bear  the  test  of  the  legitimate  criteria 
of  pleasure,  as  a  thing  to  be  enjoyed  by  man.  The  Biljle, 
if  his  idea  of  pleasure  is  a  wrong  one,  is  really  proving  it- 
self, in  the  best  way  possible,  the  friend  of  man  and  the 
patron  of  his  pleasures,  by  opposing  it;  since  to  combat  an 
error  or  to  extricate  man  from  a  wrong  idea,  is  always  to 
benefit  him,  and  to  improve,  so  far,  his  prospects  of  happi- 
ness. Nothing  is  clearer  than  that  there  are  man}'  ideas  of 
pleasure,  entertained  by  men,  which  are  wrong.  The  be- 
sotted opium-eater  realizes  his  idea  of  pleasure  in  the  sen- 
sations produced  by  the  use  of  that  poisonous  drug.  No 
one  in  his  senses,  would  call  his  idea  of  pleasure  a  right 
one.  The  ideas  of  pleasure  current  in  the  world  are  end- 
lessly various.  They  vary  with  the  character,  the  tastes, 
the  appetites  of  the  individual.  Things  diametrically  oppo- 
site, may  be  the  sources  of  pleasure  to  two  different  per- 
sons. One  man's  meat  may  be  another  man's  poison. 
What  is  one  man's  delight  is  another  man's  abomina- 
tion. All  the  ideas  of  pleasure  entertained  b}'  men  cannot 
be  right,  therefore,  unless  we  maintain  that  all  men,  what- 
ever may  be  the  diversity  in  men's  character,  tastes  and 
appetites,  are  equally  right.  And  if  we  maintain  this,  what 
becomes  of  the  distinction  between  the  good  man  and  the 
bad  man,   the  virtuous  man    and  the  vicious  man?     Here  is 


THE    DEADNESS    OF    THE    Pl.EASURE-SEEKER.  ZO  i 

a  druukai'd  reeling  throiigb  your  streets,  a  disgrace  to  him- 
self, and  au  otl'enee  to  tlie  communily;  scjuandering  the 
money  that  should  have  bought  his  wife  and  children 
bread,  at  the  dram  sliop,  and  finding  liis  pleasure  in  the  ex- 
citement of  strong-drink,  and  the  gross  ribaldry  of  pot- 
house companionship.  Anon,  tlirough  the  operation  of  some 
blessed  power,  you  see  that  drunkard  become  a  reformed 
man.  He  has  taken  his  place  amongst  you  as  a  decent, 
sober,  respectable  member  of  society.  He  pursues  industri- 
ously his  trade  or  profession.  He  earns  a  comfortable  sup- 
port for  his  family.  He  has  a  home,  and  in  the  bosom  of 
that  home,  surrounded  by  domestic  endearments  and  sympa- 
thies, he  tastes  a  joy  which  brings  with  it  no  satiety,  and 
leaves  behind  it  no  remorse.  He  is  a  totally  different  man, 
now,  from  what  he  was  before.  H'  he  is  right  in  what  he 
is  now,  he  could  not  have  been  right  in  what  he  was  be- 
fore. It  would  be  the  height  of  absurdity  to  say,  that  he 
was  ecpially  right,  as  a  drunkard  and  as  a  sober  man.  He 
knows  better  and  everybody  else  knows  better.  There  is 
a  distinction  which  must  be  recognized  between  these  two 
characters.  And  just  the  same  distinction  must  be  drawn 
between  the  idea  of  pleasure,  which  belonged  to  him  as  a 
drunkard,  and  that  which  belongs  to  him  as  a  sober  man. 
If  the  latter  is  right  the  former  must  have  been  wrong. 
They  cannot  iwssibl}'  be  equally  right.  The  idea  of  pleas- 
ure which  he  entertained  as  a  drunkard  was  wrong,  because 
as  a  drunkard  he  was  wrong  himself.  It  was  only  one  of 
the  types  and  symptoms,  by  which  the  wrouguess  of  the 
man  himself  expressed  itself.  Change  the  man — make  him 
a  sober  man,  and  you  change  his  idea  of  pleasure.  In 
other  words  convert  him  from  a  wrong  man  to  a  right  one, 
and  you  will  convert  his  idea  of  pleasure  from  a  wrong  one 
to  a  right  one.  It  will  not  do,  therefore,  to  bring  the 
charge  of    being  the    enemy    of  pleasure    against  the    Bible, 


258  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

because  it  is  found  opposing  some,  or  even  many,  of  the 
things,  which  are  regarded  by  men  as  pleasure.  Because 
we  know,  that  the  idea  of  ple^isure  entertained  by  some  and 
even  many  men  is  a  wrong  one.  You  must  first  demon- 
strate tliat  the  idea  of  pleasure  which  tiie  Bible  opposes  is 
a  right  one,  before  you  can  make  such  a  charge  good;  for 
you  are  only  establishing  its  claim  to  be  regarded  as  the 
guardian  and  promoter  of  human  happiness,  when  you 
affirm  that  it  is  the  enemy  of  the  wrong  ideas  of  pleasure 
which  men  have  adopted. 

Now,  what  is  the  right  idea  of  pleasure?  Or  what  is 
required  lo  make  pleasure  real  and  true?  To  answer  this 
question,  it  is  evident  from  wliat  I  have  said,  that  we  must 
first  determine  what  it  is  that  constitutes  a  man's  right,  in 
his  character,  tastes  and  appetites;  since  his  idea  of  pleas- 
ure, or  his  pleasure  itself  will  correspond  in  every  case, 
with  wliat  he  is  himself,  in  his  character,  tastes  and  appe- 
tites. The  Bible  determines  this  point  by  saying  that  re- 
ligion, and  religion  alone,  constitutes  a  man's  right  in  his 
character,  tastes  and  appetites.  And  by  this  declaration,  it 
means  that  religion,  and  religion  alone,  brings  a  man  into 
conformity  with  the  laws  of  reason,  of  nature,  and  of  God. 
A  man  without  religion  must  violate  some  of  these  laws. 
He  generally  violates  them  all.  And  his  idea  of  pleasure, 
or  his  pleasure  itself,  will  be,  like  himself,  at  variance  with 
some  or  all  of  tliese  laws.  And  therefore,  it  cannot  be 
right.  It  is  a  wrong  idea,  it  is  a  false  thing.  Take  the 
man  who  is  pursuing  a  form  of  pleasure,  which  is  contrary 
to  the  laws  of  reason.  As  he  must  be  always,  more  or  less 
cognizant  of  the  judgment  of  his  reason,  he  must  be  always, 
more  or  less  conscious  of  the  fact  that  his  pleasure  is  un- 
reasonable. He  must  cai-ry"  in  his  mind  the  conviction  that 
he  is  a  fool,  in  pursuing  it.  And  I  say  therefore,  tbat  it 
cannot  be  real  pleasure,   for  chat    can  never  be    real  or  true 


THE    DEADNESS    OF    THE    PLEASURE-SEEKER.  259 

pleasure  to  a  man,   wliicli  is  all  the    while  demonstrating  to 
Lis  own  consciousness   that  he  is  a   fool. 

Or  take  the  man  who  is  pursuing  a  form  of  pleasure, 
which  is  contrary  to  the  laws  of  nature.  Contrariety  to 
nature,  or  violence  done  to  nature,  will  infallibly  bring  dis- 
order and  suffering  into  the  mind,  or  body,  or  both.  Na- 
ture is  the  sternest  of  all  masters.  You  might  as  well  ask 
fire  not  to  burn  you,  or  water  not  to  drown  you,  as  to  ask 
her  to  relax  or  change  her  ordinances  to  accommodate  you. 
Trespass  against  her  rules  in  any  material  point,  and  the 
avenging  distemper  or  mutilation,  the  retributive  fever,  or 
sore,  or  bruise,  or  fracture,  will  follow,  as  surely  as  the 
rifle- ball  follows  the  flash  of  the  gunpowder,  or  the  stroke 
of  the  serpent's  fang,  tiie  pressure  of  the  foot  that  treads 
upon  him.  That  form  of  pleasure  then  that  men  seek  from 
courses  of  conduct  that  thwart  or  violate  the  laws  of  nature, 
cannot  be  true  or  real  pleasure;  because  it  sooner  or  later 
ends  in  pain.  It  is  no  more  true  or  real  pleasure,  than 
that  sensation  would  be,  which  you  would  experience  in 
swallowing  the  sugared  drug,  which  you  knew  would  be  no 
sooner  swallowed,  than  it  would  rack  your  body  with  tor- 
ment, and  taint  your  system  with  a  deadly  venom.  Or  take 
the  man,  who  is  pursuing  a  form  of  pleasure,  which  is  con- 
trary to  the  law  of  God.  The  price  of  his  pleasure,  here, 
must  be  the  forfeiture  of  the  favor  of  God,  which  must 
ever  stand  as  the  fundamental  condition  of  happiness  to 
man.  God  and  the  man  who  transgresses  his  laws,  must 
stand  as  enemies.  There  is  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  a 
strife  between  them.  God's  will  and  the  man's  will  are  set 
in  direct  variance.  In  order  that  the  man's  will  should  be 
iatlulged,  God's  will  must  be  overthrown.  And  if  this  can 
be  done  with  impunity,  if  man  can  so  triumph  over  God, 
God's  will  is  nugatory.  It  is  nothing,  a  cobweb,  a  rope  of 
sand.     He  might  as  well    have  no    will.      He  might    as  well 


200  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

lay  aside  his  crown,  nay,  be  bad  better  do  so,  for  be  wears 
it  only  to  bave  it  dishonored.  I  bold  it  tben,  self-evident, 
that  a  man  wbo  seeks  bis  pleasure  in  ways  tbat  contravene 
tbe  law  of  God,  is  putting  bimself  in  a  position,  where  be 
must  expect  to  feel,  sometime,  in  some  form,  tbe  opposi- 
tion of  God,  which  is  only  another  name  for  bis  wrath. 
And  what  can  the  wrath  of  God  be  but  a  consuming  fire? 
Is  tbat,  I  ask,  true  or  real  pleasure,  which  has  such  an  is- 
sue as  this?  Which  is  kindling  all  the  while  against  the 
person,  who  indulges  in  it,  tbe  flames  of  Almigbt}'  ven- 
geance? Now,  the  Bible  teaches,  as  I  have  said  before, 
tbat  religion,  and  religion  only,  constitutes  a  man  such  in 
his  character,  tastes  and  appetites,  that  he  is  conformed  to 
these  laws  of  reason,  nature  and  God.  And  as  a  corollary 
to  this,  it  teaches  that  the  man  who  has  religion,  or  tbe 
Christian,  is  tbe  only  person  whose  idea  of  pleasure  is 
right,  or  who,  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  is  seeking  an  ob- 
ject which  is  really  and  truly  entitled  to  that  name.  If 
this  teaching  of  the  Bible  be  correct,  then  it  has  this  an- 
swer to  make  to  the  objector,  "You  charge  me  with  being 
the  enemy  of  all  pleasure,  because,  perchance,  I  am  opposed 
to  what  you  think  to  be  pleasure.  What  you  think  to  be 
pleasure  is  not  necessarily  pleasure.  Tbe  idea  of  pleasure 
entertained  by  many  persons  is  manifestly  wrong.  If  yours 
is  like  this,  it  is  the  part  of  benevolence  in  me,  towards 
you  and  towards  all  men,  to  forbid  and  condemn  your 
pleasure.  Keligion,  I  hold,  to  be  absolutely  indispensable, 
to  give  to  man  such  a  character,  such  tastes  and  such  ap- 
petites, as  shall  fit  him  to  entertain  a  right  idea  of  pleas- 
ure, or  to  enjoy  true  and  real  pleasure.  I  enjoin  religion 
upon  men,  as  the  necessary  means  to  their  happiness;  and 
I  promise  to  all  who  truly  possess  it,  and  faithfully  prac- 
tice it,  pleasure,  as  the  certain  result.  If  I  am  found  op- 
posing your    pleasure,   it    is  only    because    j^our    pleasure    is 


THE  -DEADNESS    OP    THE    PLEASURE-SEEKER.  2G1 

something  which  religion  did  not  originate,  and  does  not 
approve,  and  something  therefore,  which  is  not  legitimate 
pleasure.  I  am  not  the  enemy  of  3'our  pleasure,  except  as 
I  am  the  enemy  of  your  irreligion,  and  except  as  I  see 
your  pleasure,  which  is  the  product  of  your  irreligion,  vi- 
tally at  war  with  your  true  happiness.  Only  open  3'Our 
heart  to  the  influences  of  tiiat  religion  which  I  teach! 
Put  olf  the  old  man,  with  his  corru[)t  affections,  and  put 
on  the  new  man,  which  is  created  in  Christ  Jesus  after  the 
image  of  (jlod!  Become  a  heart}',  intelligent  Christian,  and 
with  your  new  character,  tastes  and  appetites,  you  will  gain 
a  new  idea  of  pleasure,  and  a  new  enjoyment,  which  3'ou 
will  no  more  consent  to  exchange  for  the  old,  than  the 
drunkard,  reformed,  would  exchange  his  present  decency 
and  comfort  for  his  former  brutality  and  wretchedness! 

These  observations,  designed  to  repel  the  charge,  some- 
times made  against  the  Bible,  that  it  is  opposed  to  human 
enjoyment,  will  serve  to  show  what  the  Bible  means,  when 
on  the  one  hand  it  exhorts  men  to  be  happy,  and  on  the 
other,  it  says  of  the  man  who  lives  in  pleasure,  he  is  dead 
while  he  liveth.  There  is  a  pleasure,  which  is  the  offspring 
of  religion.  That  pleasure  the  Bil)le  approves  and  recom- 
mends. There  is  a  pleasure,  which  grows  out  of  a  state  of 
irreligion,  which  is  itself  the  mark  and  proof,  that  the 
heart  that  seeks  it  is  opposed  to  religion,  and  that  pleasure 
the  Bible  opposes  and  condemns.  It  is  this  latter  kind  of 
pleasure  which  is  referred  to  by  the  Apostle  in  the  text. 
The  word  translated,  living  in  pleasure,  means  living  luxu- 
riously or  voluptuously.  It  is  derived  from  a  noun  which 
signifies  rich  or  delicious  fare,  food  which  is  partaken  of, 
not  to  allay  hunger,  but  to  please  the  palate;  and  we  shall 
have  the  precise  idea  conveyed  by  it,  properly,  if  we  take 
it  as  describing  those,  who  in  their  whole  system  of  life, 
act  in  the  spirit  of   a  man,   who  sits  down  to    a    sumptuous 


262  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

antl  delicate  feast.  Tliere  are  persons  whose  whole  system 
of  life  may  be  said  to  be  informed  or  pervaded  by  such  a 
spirit;  persons  whose  whole  existence  is  an  Epicurean  enter- 
tainment, or  an  attendance  upon  an  Epicurean  entertain- 
ment. They  are  found,  of  course,  in  many  grades,  and  in 
many  forms,  from  the  highest  type  of  extravMgauce  and 
dissipation,  to  the  most  parsimonious  and  unobstrusive  forms 
of  self-indulgence.  The  seeking  of  pleasure,  of  private, 
personal  gratification,  as  the  supreme  end  of  life — the  com- 
mon mark  of  them  all.  They  may  be  likened  to  the 
guests  at  a  bantjuet,  with  each  his  separate  dish  before 
him.  The  viands  are  endlessly  various,  but  each  individual 
has  what  his  taste  calls  for,  and  though  on  ditl'erent  fare 
they  all  eat  with  the  same  relish,  and  are  all  intent  upon 
tlie  same  object,  the  pampering  of  the  appetite  And  when 
the  banquet  is  over  each  could  describe  the  act  in  which 
he  had  been  engaged,  by  the  same  terms,  "I  have  indulged 
myself."  So,  of  these  persons,  who  live  in  pleasure,  what- 
ever be  the  mode  of  life  or  the  species  of  pleasure,  you 
will  have  a  description  which  fits  the  case  of  each  one  of 
them,  if  you  say  as  the  sum  of  what  each  one  has  done, 
"he  has  indulged  himself,  nothing  else,  nothing  more." 
From  morning  to  night,  from  year  to  year,  to  indulge  him- 
self has  been  his  business.  The  world  for  him  may  be 
said  to  have  contained  but  two  objects,  the  one  is  himself, 
and  the  other  the  means,  which  subserve  his  pleasure. 
Imagine  him  in  the  world  without  tlie  power  of  indulging 
himself,  and  you  must  imagine  a  forlorn  bankrupt — a  starv- 
ing beggar — a  crippled  cast-away,  flung  by  the  sea  upon  a 
barren  beach.  Now,  to  live  in  pleasure,  thus,  is  to  give 
the  strongest  evidence,  that  one  well  can  give,  that  he  is 
living  under  the  dominion  of  a  selfish,  a  carnal,  a  worldly, 
a  sensual  mind,  that  he  is  enslaved  by  what  the  Scriptures 
call   "evil  concupiscence;"  or  flesh}'  lusts;  that  his  character, 


THE    DEADNESS    OP    THE    PLEASURE- SEEKER.  203 

tastes,    and  appetites,   are    all    in    eonHict    with    the    recjuiie- 
meuts  of  religion. 

And,  so,  the  Bible  condemns  him,  and  says  of  him, 
"he  is  dead  while  he  liveth."  He  is  dead  while  he  liveth, 
because  in  the  first  place,  his  life  is  barren  of  all  those 
fruits,  those  results,  which  the  life  of  such  a  being  as  man, 
is  required  b}'  his  constitution,  to  produce.  The  fig-tree, 
that  was  found  without  fruit,  in  the  Savior's  parable,  was 
at  length,  directed  b}^  the  proprietor,  to  be  cut  down. 
Why?  because  the  object  for  which  it  was  planted  was,  that 
it  might  bear  fruit,  and  after  an  abundant  experiment  of  the 
likelihood  of  its  accomplishing  its  object,  it  was  found  with- 
out fruit,  so  that  all  the  reasons  for  its  continuing  in  exist- 
ence had  ceased,  and  to  sutt'er  it  to  remain  was  only  to  cumber 
the  ground.  While  it  lived  it  was  no  better  than  a  dead  tree. 
Put  a  man  in  the  position  of  that  tree,  and  it  would  be  right 
to  say  of  him,  he  is  no  better  than  a  dead  man.  He  was 
made  and  organized  to  serve  certain  purposes  in  the  world. 
He  is  not  serving  those  purposes.  His  existence,  so  far  as 
they  are  concerned,  is  a  blank,  and  his  existence  therefore 
is  not  to  be  taken  account  of.  He  is  as  good  as  dead. 
Suppose  you  asked  for  a  stream  of  water  to  be  introduced 
into  your  farm,  that,  as  it  wandered  here  and  there  in  its 
channels,  it  might  irrigate  your  fields,  and  bathe  the  roots 
of  your  orchards,  and  infuse  fertility  into  your  meadows. 
And  suppose  in  the  place  of  what  you  asked,  you  should 
see  a  fountain  springiug  up  somewhere  in  your  lands,  cleav- 
ing the  air  with  its  sparkling  column,  glittering,  dancing  in 
the  sunbeams,  as  it  rose  to  its  elevation,  and  then  dissolv- 
ing into  drops  and  falling  back  again,  in  a  shower,  into  the 
basin  from  which  it  issued,  absorbing,  so  to  speak,  in  its 
own  bosom,  all  the  energy,  all  the  vitality,  it  had  sent 
forth.  You  would  say,  "I  asked  not  for  this."  For  the 
purposes  I  had  in  view,   this    thing,   pretty,   graceful    to    be 


264  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

seen,  but  utterl}'  useless,  this  tli'mg  is  not  wortli  the  space 
it  occupies.  Away  with  it.  I  do  not  want  it.'.  Now  man 
was  made  to  be  the  stream,  not  the  fountain,  in  this  world 
of  ours.  His  life  is  intended  to  flow  outward,  not  inward. 
He  has  no  right  to  expend  upon  himself  the  forces  with 
which  he  has  been  endowed.  He  has  no  right  to  take 
counsel  only  of  his  own  inclinations  and  passions,  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  he  sliall  employ  his  existence.  He  has  no 
right  to  say,  "such  and  such  things  will  give  me  pleasure, 
and  such  and  such  things,  therefore,  I  will  do."'  There  are 
many  other  questions  he  ought  to  ask  about  these  things, 
besides  the  one,  whether  in  his  opinion,  they  will  give  him 
pleasure,  before  he  can  feel  authorized  to  do  them.  Are 
they  a  part  of  that  work,  which  by  the  laws  of  reason, 
nature  and  God,  it  was  indicated  to  him  that  he  was  made 
and  placed  in  the  world  to  do?  Will  he  by  doing  these 
things  be  qualifying  himself  to  give  u^)  that  account  which 
he  is  bound  to  render  to  his  Maker,  of  his  stewardsiiip? 
Will  he  be  able,  if  he  spends  his  life  in  such  occupations, 
to  show  upon  the  review  of  it,  that  it  was  not  given  to 
him  in  vain?  For  God,  we  may  be  sure,  makes  nothing  in 
vain,  and  least  of  all  did  he  make  such  a  being  as  man  in 
vain.  He  !iad  a  purpose  in  making  him,  and  that  purpose 
it  is  man's  great  duty  to  realize  and  fulfill.  You  do  not 
cut  and  polish  and  set  your  pearls,  to  cast  them  before 
swine.  You  use  them  as  the  adornments  of  human  beauty 
and  grandeur.  Neither  did  God  cut  and  polish  and  set  in 
your  nature,  those  pearls  that  stud,  so  to  speak,  every  de- 
partment of  your  soul  and  body,  that  they  might  be  cast 
before  swine,  or  be  trampled  in  the  mire  of  swinish  pursuits 
and  indulgences.  He  meant  them  to  be  used  for  the  de- 
veloping and  perfecting  of  the  being  to  whom  the}'  had  been 
entrusted,  and  ultimately,  for  the  magnifying  of  his  own 
glory.     And  before  3'ou  ask  of  any  occupation  whether  it  is 


THE    DEADNESS    OF    THE     PLEASURE-SEEKER.  2G5 

going  to  give  you  pleasure,  3'ou  must  ask  whetbei-  it  is  go- 
ing to  produce  such  results  as  tiiese,  whether  it  is  going  to 
put  the  pearl  under  the  swine's  foot,  or  light  with  it  a 
man's  l)row  and  the  crown  of  (4od.  If  it  does  not  do  this 
latter,  you  had  better  abandon  the  occupation  and  do  with- 
out the  pleasure,  for  to  be  living  in  such  pleasure,  is  as- 
suredly, to  be  dead  while  yon  live.  The  pursuit  of  pleas- 
ure, in  ever}'  case  where  it  diverts  men  from  the  great 
objects  of  life — the  advancement  of  their  nature;  the  im- 
provement of  the  world,  of  the  organism  of  which,  every 
individual  is  an  active  and  responsible  part;  and  the  illustra- 
tion of  the  glory  of  God — in  every  case  where  it  has  the 
effect  of  diverting  men  from  these,  the  pursuit  of  pleasure 
is  making  their  lives  1)arren  of  the  fruits,  which  they  ought 
to  produce,  and  so,  is  demonstrating  that  as  to  all  the  pur- 
poses contemplated  in  their  creation,   they  are  dead. 

And  then,  in  the  next  place,  he  that  liveth  in  pleasure 
is  dead  while  he  liveth,  because  his  mode  of  life  involves 
in  it,  a  perpetual  consummation  and  waste  of  what  may  be 
called,  the  true  vital  power  of  his  nature.  You  all  know 
the  effect  of  mortification,  when  it  sets  in,  in  -  any  part  of 
the  diseased  human  bod_y.  It  is  corruption — anticipating 
the  departure  of  life.  It  is  a  token  that  the  subject  is 
dead,  while  he  is  yet  living.  It  may  be  a  startling  remark 
to  make,  and  yet  there  is  a  wonderful  degree  of  similarity 
in  the  cases,  that  seems  to  warrant  the  remark,  that  the 
lust  of  pleasure  in  the  heart  (selfish,  sensual,  world}'  pleas- 
ure, of  course,  I  mean,)  is  just  like  this  mortification  in 
the  body.  It  is  corruption  begun,  a  disorganizing  element 
at  work  upon  the  moral  system  of  the  subject,  a  fearful 
sign  that  he  is  in  a  moril)und  state,  an  incipient  stage  of 
death.  There  are  men  to  lie  found,  the  wretched,  shame- 
less, hopeless  drunkard,  for  instance,  who  have  spent  their 
lives  in  what  they  have  thought,   pleasure,   who  are  nothing 


2G6  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

better  than  living  corpses,  and  corpses  that  have  progressed 
even  to  putrefaction.  This  horrible  result  reached  in 
some  cases  shows  how  terribl}'  the  words  of  the  text  may 
be  verified.  There  is  danger  that  they  may  be  similarly- 
verified  in  all  cases,  where  men  live  in  pleasure.  For  living 
in  pleasure  is  not  only  a  wrong  mode  of  living,  but  it  is 
certain,  if  pursued  long  enough,  to  put  it  out  of  the  power 
of  the  individual  ever  to  adopt  a  right  mode  of  living. 
There  is  such  a  consumption,  or  waste  of  vital  power,  in- 
volved in  indulgence  in  pleasure,  that  the  person  ultimately 
1)ecomes  incapable  of  returning  to  that  true  life  that  con- 
sists of  the  practice  of  virtue  and  piety.  The  gratification 
of  an  evil  lust,  uniformly  gives  intensity  and  strength  to  that 
lust,  so  that,  by  and  by,  it  comes  to  hold  the  nature  of 
the  man  with  the  tenacity  of  a  death-grip.  It  is  in  his 
heart  like  the  element  of  mortification,  ineradicable,  incura- 
ble, expelling  completely  the  vital  power,  as  far  as  it  has 
progressed.  A  life  of  pleasure  is  a  life  given  up  to  the 
domination  of  such  evil  lusts,  and  if  their  tendency  is  al- 
ways opposed  to  the  development  and  perfection  of  the 
true  life  of  such  a  being  as  man,  whenever  they  have  gain- 
ed that  degree  of  power  over  him,  as  assuredly  they  may, 
which  shall  render  him  incapable  of  escaping  from  their 
domination,  that  he  shall  be  incapable  of  correct  perceptions 
and  volitions  and  of  self-denial  and  self-control,  then,  it 
will  be  necessary  to  write  his  epitaph,  as  it  were,  and  say 
of  him,    "he  is  dead  while  he  liveth." 

And  then,  in  the  third  place,  he  that  liveth  in  pleasure 
is  dead  while  he  liveth,  because  his  life,  as  it  is  a  life  of 
sin  against  God,  is  only  a  prelude  and  a  preparation  for 
eternal  death.  It  is  death  in  the  seed,  sprouting  up,  shoot- 
ing forth,  maturing,  ripening  steadily,  into  death  in  the 
fruit.  That  kind  of  life  which,  at  every  step,  is  separating 
the    individual    farther    and    farther   from    God,   is   certainly 


THE    DEADNESS    OF    THE    PLEASURE-SEEfvER.  2(57 

fabricating,  as  plainly  as  cause  ever  fabricated,  effect,  its 
issue  in  his  eternal  separation  from  God,  And  when,  like 
the  rich  man  we  read  about,  who,  after  living  in  pleasure, 
"died  and  lifted  up  his  eyes  in  hell,  being  in  torment."  he 
from  the  world  of  woe,  shall  measure  the  awful  chasm 
which  separates  him  from  God,  he  will  have  to  confess,  "it 
is  just  here  mj  own  steps  have  brought  me.  I  stretched 
the  line,  with  my  own  hand,  which  now  measures  the  ex- 
tent of  m\'  banishment  from  God."  The  first  step  and  the 
last  step,  the  starting  point  and  the  termination  of  an  evil 
course,  are  elementary  parts  of  one  progress.  They  are 
united  in  the  unity  of  the  result,  so  that  if  the  ending  is 
death,  the  beginning  was  death;  and  so,  if  a  life  of  pleas- 
ure must  end  in  death,  it  begins  in  death,  it  goes  on  iu 
death;  and  the  person  wbo  is  leading  it,  may  be  said  at 
anj-  stage  in  bis  career  to  be  in  deathf  He  is  still  dead 
even  while  he  liveth.  That  such  a  life  persevered  in,  must 
end  in  death  is  the  plain  and  constant  declaration  of  the 
Scriptures.  "The  wages  of  sin,"  it  says,  "is  death."  "Sin, 
when  it  is  finished,"  that  is  when  it  comes  to  its  issue, 
"bringeth  forth  death."  And  anticipating  this  result,  and 
applying  the  terms,  which  describe  its  final  stages,  to  the 
earlier  stages  of  the  sinner's  course,  it  says  again,  "to  be 
carnally-minded  is  death;"  and  again,  "he  that  sinneth 
against  me,"  that  is  the  wisdom  or  the  religion  of  which 
Christ  was  the  expositor  and  revealer,  "wrongeth  his  own 
soul;  all  they  that  hate  me  love  death."  Destined  to  death 
in  its  ending,  to  eternal  separation  from  God,  whose  favor 
is  the  fountain  of  the  soul's  life,  what  can  a  life  of  sinfu 
pleasure  be,  but  a  perpetual  dying?  a  continual  advance 
into  the  darkness  and  horror  of  the  tomb?  a  treasuring  up 
unto  one's  self,  da}'  by  day.  and  hour  by  hour,  of  wrath 
against  the  day  of  wrath  and  revelation  of  the  righteous 
judgment  of  God? 


2f)8  •        A  pastor's  valedictory. 

And  now.  do  yon  tell  me  that  this  is  a  harsh  doctrine? 
That  it  is  unjust  and  intolerable,  to  be  told  that  to  be  liv- 
ing in  pleasure  is  to  be  dead  in  such  senses  as  these?  And 
is  it  harsh,  and  unjust,  and  intolerable  in  God  not  to  per- 
mit you  to  set  up  your  will  above  his,  to  gratify'  yourselves 
at  the  expense  of  his  rights,  his  authority,  his  honor? 
Harsh,  and  unjust,  and  intolerable  in  him  to  tell  you,  that 
if  you  will  turn  away  fi'om  tlie  object,  the  pure  })leasiire  he 
offers  you,  the  pleasure  which  religion  gives,  and  which 
in  its  nature  is  allied  to  his  own  infinite  blessedness,  and 
spend  your  lives  pursuing  a  pleasure  which  perverts  every 
gift  of  30ur  nature  from  its  proper  use  and  design,  and 
too  often,  sinks  that  nature  into  fellowship  with  the  brute 
or  the  devil,  he  will  be  angry  with  you,  and  lay  his  rod 
upon  you  in  holy  severity?  No,  ray  friends,  no.  You  may 
pursuade  yourselves '^so,  now,  but  you  will  think  differently 
sometime,  when  removed  from  the  temptation  and  fascina- 
tion of  your  pleasures,  in  the  honest  reflections  of  the 
eternal  world,  or  perhaps,  in  the  often  equally  honest  ones 
of  a  dying  hour,  you  estimate  the  worth  of  these  pleasures 
aright,  and  discover  all  the  fearful  wrong  you  have  done  by 
them  to  your  own  soul  and  to  God. 

But  why  wait  for  these  forlorn  occasions  to  teach  you 
the  truth?  Believe  God's  word  now!  Take  that  solemn 
declaration,  "he  that  liveth  in  pleasure  is  dead  while  he 
liveth. "  and  gaze  at  it  and  study  its  meaning,  as  Belshaz- 
zar  did  the  fiery  writing  on  his  palace  walls,  and  be  warned 
by  it,  to  escape,  while  you  can,  the  doom  of  those  it  de- 
scribes! You  may  have  already  advanced  far  in  the  way  of 
guilty  pleasure.  Then,  turn,  now,  before  you  have  taken 
the  last  step,  and  retreat  becomes  impossible!  You  may  be 
just  meditating  an  adventure  into  the  way.  Then  hear 
God's  voice  and  turn  from  it,  as  j^ou  would  from  the  de- 
scent to  hell!      "Surely  in    vain,"  says  the    wise  man,    "the 


THE    DEADNESS    OF    THE    PLEASURE- SEEKER.  2G1) 

net  is  spread  iu  tlie  sight  of  any  bird."  God  to-day,  has 
opened  your  eyes  and  directed  your  sight,  to  see  the  net 
spread  for  your  souls.  That  net  is  the  net  of  pleasure. 
Oh,  surely  you  will  not,  with  your  eyes  open,  walk  into  it! 
Surely  for  this  mess  of  pottage,  you  will  not,  deliberately, 
sell  your  birthright  of  immortality!  This  is  God's  warning, 
and  this  is  God's  hope,  concerning  you.  And  now,  let  me 
sa}"  to  you,  if  you  disregard  God's  warning,  and  disappoint 
his  hope,  if  you  persist  in  following  your  courses  of  wicked 
pleasure,  you  will  perish  in  your  sins  and  your  blood  will 
be  forever  on  your  own  heads. 


INCREASE  OF  FAITH 

JULY   20,  1856. 


"And  the  Apostles  said  unto  the  Lord,   increase  our  Faith." 
-Luke  17:5. 


THE  excellency  aud  desirableness  of  Faitli  as  an  attribute 
of    character,   or    grace    of    the    heart,    is     one    of    the 

topics  prominently  suggested  to  us  by  this  text.  In 
praying,  "increase  our  faith,"  it  is  implied  that  the  Apos- 
tles were  in  possession,  to  some  extent,  of  that  which  they 
wished  to  possess  in  larger  measure. 

They  had  made  some  attainments  in  Faith,  and  desired 
now  to  advance  to  higher  degrees  in  the  experience  and 
practice  of  it.  It  must  have  been  their  conviction  then, 
that  Faith  was  good  and  profitable.  Their  prayer  was  the 
strongest  possible  expression  of  such  a  conviction. 

For  it  is  only  that  which  men  believe  to  be  a  genuine 
and  positive  benefit,  that  they  are  found  anxious  (after  ex- 
periment is  made)  to  retain  in  their  possession,  or  to  pos- 
sess in  an  augmented  quantity.  We  are  naturally  led,  in 
view  of  such  a  decided  testimony  by  the  Apostles,  as  to 
the  excellency  and  desirableness  of  Faith,  to  inquire  into 
the  grounds  upon  which  their  estimate  of  it  is  foundetl, 
and  the  extent  to  which  the  qualities  aMirmed  of  it  by  them 
are  true.  And  in  order  to  do  this,  it  will  be  necessary  to 
go  back  and  inquire,  first,  what  is  P'aith?  The  radical  idea 
contained  in  the  meaning  of  the  term  is,  trusting  and  be- 
lieving. We  have  faith,  whenever  we  trust  or  believe  in  a 
thing  so  as  to  treat    it   as    though  it    were    actually  what  it 

270 


INCREASE    OF    FAITH.  271 

professes  to  be;  tmd  as  though  it  were  actually  about  to 
do  what  it  has  promised,  or  threatened  to  do.  Perhaps  we 
shall  (.lehiie  it  as  correctly  and  as  tersely  as  may  be,  by 
saying,  it  is  that  which  makes  facts  of  things  which  are 
not  present  and  cognizable  to  ns  as  facts.  For  instance, 
the  flood  was  not  a  fact,  present  and  cognizable  prior  to 
the  time  of  its  actual  coming.  When  it  did  actually  come, 
it  became  such  a  fact.  It  became  a  matter  of  sense.  There 
was  no  occasion  for  the  exercise  of  faith  in  regard  to  it 
then.  But,  before  it  came,  it  was  a  fact  to  Noah — a  fact 
which  he  took  into  consideration,  and  estimated  and  con- 
sulted as  carefully  as  he  did  any  other  fact,  or  he  would 
not  have  spent  the  time  and  labor  which  we  know  he  did 
spend,  upon  the  building  of  the  ark.  Now  it  was  faith 
which  thus  made  a  fact  of  the  flood,  before  it  became  ac- 
tually a  fact  to  Noah.  Then  further,  as  faith  is  concerned 
thus  about  things  not  present  antl  cognizable  as  facts,  it 
must  of  course  receive  its  information  concerning  the  things 
which  it  makes  facts,  from  some  external  source.  It  must 
take  the  testimony  of  some  witness,  and  give  credit  to 
that,  and  upon  the  ground  of  that,  proceed  to  act  in  refer- 
ence to  the  things  proposed  to  it.  Noah's  faith  was  found- 
ed upon  a  revelation  made  to  him  by  God  of  his  purpose 
to  send  a  flood  upon  the  earth.  Faith  in  all  cases  has  a 
similar  foundation.  It  is  confidence  exercised  in  obedience 
to  evidence.  It  is  treating  a  thing  as  being  what  it  pro- 
fesses to  be,  in  consequence  of  a  pursuasion  produced  by 
some  kind  of  proof  that  it  is  what  it  professes  to  be. 
Faith,  therefore,  presupposes  testimony,  as  that  upon  which 
its  existence  depends.  And  it  finds  its  field  of  action  in 
giving  the  force  of  facts  to  the  things  (not  present  and 
cognizable  as  facts)  which  the  testimony  reveals.  But  it  is 
of  the  faith  which  is  allied  to  religion  that  we  are  particu- 
larly to  speak. 


272  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

And  applying  the  remarks  I  have  now  made,  we  may 
define  Ihis  faith  as  being  a  trusting  or  believing  in  the 
things  communicated  to  us  by  the  testimony  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, so  as  to  treat  these  things  as  facts  though  they  are 
not  present  nor  cognizable  to  us  as  facts.  I  say  communi- 
cated to  us  by  the  Scriptures,  because  these  are  our  main 
source  of  information  in  regard  to  the  things  which  consti- 
tute and  form  religion.  Other  witnesses  there  arc  such  as 
nature  and  reason,  but  the  testimony  of  these  is  coincident 
with  and  embraced  in  that  of  the  Scriptures.  It  is  all 
gathered  up  and  repeated  in  their  enunciations,  so  that  if 
we  receive  the  Scriptures  we  have  the  benefit  of  whatever 
has  been  communicated  by  other  sources.  Now,  the  value 
of  faith,  is  to  be  measured  by  the  value  of  those  things 
communicated  by  Scriptures,  which  it  makes  facts.  If  these 
are  important,  and  if  the  possession  of  them  is  an  advan- 
tage, and  if  they  cannot  be  dispensed  with  without  loss  and 
harm,  then  faith  is  important;  and  the  possession  of  it  is 
an  advantage;  and  it  cannot  be  dispensed  with  without  loss 
and  harm.  Faith,  for  example,  makes  God  a  fact.  If  it 
is  of  benefit  to  a  man  to  have  God  for  a  fact,  it  is  of 
benefit  to  him  to  have  faith.  Faith  is  excellent  and  desir- 
able, just  as  the  belief  in  a  God,  and  a  reverential  ac- 
knowledgment of  Him  are  excellent  and  desirable.  Faith 
is  excellent  and  desirable  just  in  proportion  as  Atheism 
is  pernicious  and  deplorable.  So  we  maj^  take  all  of  the 
other  things  included  in  the  revelation  of  the  Scriptures, 
and  assuming  as  we  now  do,  that  they  are  true,  w^e 
may  saj^  that  just  in  proportion  to  the  magnitude  and  im- 
portance of  these  things,  is  the  value  of  the  faith  by  which 
they  are  made  to  have  the  effect  of  facts  upon  us.  Let 
these  things  be  blotted  out  from  the  world — let  the 
doctrines,  for  instance,  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  of 
the  accountability  of  man,   of  Heaven   and  hell,   of  redemp- 


INCREASE    OF    FAITH.  273 

tion  and  sauctilication,  be  dropped  into  oblivion  and  wliat 
a  fearful  extinction  of  man's  dearest  interests  and  highest 
hopes  would  be  the  consecjuenee!  How  would  the  sun  be 
darkened,  and  the  stars  fall  to  the  earth,  and  chaos  rush  in 
again  to  welter  in  the  abyss  which  their  removal  had  made! 
Yet  this  is  what  must  occuj-,  if  faith  cease  to  act;  if 
faith  cease  to  make  facts  of  these  things.  You  have  the  al- 
ternative always  set  before  you,  faith,  or  the  absence  from 
the  world,  and  the  soul  of  man,  of  all  those  benelicent 
agencies,  those  elevating,  purifying,  sweetening  influences 
which  emanate  from  the  truths  of  the  Christian  Scriptures. 
Religion  itself  becomes  but  a  shadow  of  a  shade,  without 
faith;  for  faith  gives  it  its  foundation  and  its  substance. 
Conscience  derives  its  vitality  and  energy  from  faith.  A 
want  of  faith  in  any  man  is  at  once  evidence  that  the  moral 
sense  of  the  man  is  disordered,  and  corrupted.  Au  eye 
that  does  not  see  beauty  where  beauty  is,  or  that  takes 
light  for  darkness,  is  not  a  sound  eye.  It  is  au  evil  eye. 
So,  a  soul  that  has  no  faith,  that  is,  that  does  not  receive 
and  relish  and  use  as  facts,  the  things  which  the  Scriptures 
make  known  to  us,  must  be  in  a  disordered  condition.  It 
is  a  subject  of  moral  corruption.  It  is  not  in  a  right  state. 
To  say  in  one's  heart,  for  instance,  "there  is  no  God,"  is  to 
prove  one's  self,  in  the  language  of  the  Bible,  a  fool.  It 
is  more  than  to  exhibit  ignorance  of  a  fact;  it  is  to  exhib- 
it a  perverse  disposition  of  mind — a  repugnance  and  con- 
trariety of  taste  and  sentiment  to  a  thing  embodied  in  a 
fact.  It  is  to  be  so  degraded  in  the  scale  of  our  moral 
conception,  propensities,  and  sympathies,  as  to  be  willing  to 
have  God  annihilated,  and  to  live  without  such  a  Being. 
Hence  unbelief  and  sin  are  always  classed  together  in  the 
Scriptures.  A  heart  of  unbelief  is  an  evil  heart.  Faith  and 
a  sound  moral  sense  must  go  together.  In  illustration  of 
this,   we    have    onl}-  to    look    at  the  connection  in  which  the 


274  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

prayer  of  the  Apostles  in  our  text  occurs.  In  the  two  pre- 
cedin*^  verses,  the  Savior  bad  been  teaching  them  the  duty 
of  forgiving  a  trespassing  brother.  This  duty  is  a  hard 
one  at  all  times;  but  when  urged  to  the  degree,  and  with 
the  latitude  He  gave  it — when  put  in  such  form  as  this — 
"if  he  trespass  against  thee  seven  times  in  a  day  and  seven 
times  in  a  day  turn  again  to  thee  saying,  I  repent,  thou 
shalt  forgiv.e  him,"  it  seemed  tenfold  more  hard  than  usual. 

It  seemed  as  if  a  deeper  sense  of  the  authority  of 
God,  a  more  commanding  tone  and  attitude  on  the  part  of 
conscience,  would  be  re<|uired  than  in  ordinary  circumstances 
to  enable  them  to  obey.  And  in  order  that  they  might  get 
these  and  that  they  might  be  animated  and  strengthened  to 
perform  this  hard  duty — what  do  they  do?  They  pray  for 
an  increase  of  faith!  More  faith  would  bring  with  it,  they 
seem  to  argue,  moral  conviction  and  determination,  and  the 
capacity  to  see  the  rectitude  of  the  Divine  law,  and  the  pow- 
er to  carry  into  execution  its  requirements  which  were  de- 
manded by  the  difficult  injunction  imposed  upon  them  by 
their  Master.  To  enable  them  to  perform  the  act  of  for- 
giveness under  peculiarly  trying  circumstances,  they  betake 
themselves  to  prayer  for  an  increase  of  faith;  and  with 
good  reason. 

Faith  is  the  principle  of  obedience  to  a  Divine  law. 
For  faith  brings  the  authority  of  the  Divine  law  to  bear  on 
the  mind,  and  it  opens  the  apprehensions  of  the  mind,  at 
the  same  time,  to  the  demands  of  the  Divine  law.  Joseph 
is  tempted  to  transgress,  but  repels  successfully  the  tempta- 
tion, and  how?  By  reasoning  thus:  How  can  I  do  this 
great  wickedness  and  "sin  against  God?"  Conscience  kept 
him  from  the  snare  that  had  been  laid  for  him ;  and  con- 
science did  it  because  faith  told  him  that  the  indulgence  in 
the  act  proposed  would  be  regarded  as  an  offence  against 
himself    by    God.       Faith    keeps    thus    always    that    terrible 


INCREASE    OF    FAITH.  275 

phrase  —  "Sin  against  God" — written,  so  to  si>eak,  before 
tlie  eyes  of  the  world;  and  so,  keeps  conscience  before  the 
eyes  of  the  world ;  and  so,  keeps  conscience  at  work,  and 
informed,  and  active,  in  pointing  the  eyes  of  the  world  to 
it.  It  is  its  otHce  peculiarly  to  make  the  Divine  law  saying: 
"thou  shall,"  or  "thou  shalt  not  do  this  thing,"  a  fact. 
And  then,  it  sustains  a  similarly  important  relation  to  the 
intellect.  It  acts  as  a  purveyor  of  material  upon  which 
that  department  of  our  nature  depends,  mainly,  for  its  health 
and  vigor,   as  well  as  for  its  efficiency  and  enjoyment. 

Faith  opens  the  avenues  of  knowledge.  It  ushers  the 
soul  into  the  contemplation  of  a  new  world — a  vast  and 
glorious  universe  lying  beyond  and  above  the  regions  of 
matter  and  sense.  It  feeds  and  stimulates  the  mind;  it  en- 
riches and  adorns  it  by  imparting  to  it  information  of  the 
most  interesting  and  salutary  sort,  and  in  the  largest  meas- 
ure, and  such  as  can  be  derived  from  no  other  source.  It 
is  the  telescope  bringing  to  light  orbs  and  systems  such 
as  were  never  dreamed  of  by  the  mind,  under  the  teach- 
ings of  the  natural  organs  of  observation.  And  it  cor- 
rects the  apprehensions  and  judgments  of  the  intellect  in 
other  cases  where  it  does  not  communicate  knowledge  of 
something  new.  Many  an  object  seen  through  the  medium 
of  faith,  puts  on  a  different  aspect  entirely  from  that  which 
it  wore  when  looked  at  through  the  medium  of  sense  and  rea- 
son. Tribulation  and  temi)tation,  for  instance,  what  repulsive 
ideas  these  words  excite.  Who  would  consent  to  them;  who 
would  tolerate  them,  in  the  guise  in  which  they  appear  to 
an  ordinary  observer?  And  yet,  we  hear  the  Scriptures 
speak  of  glorying  in  tribulation,  and  "counting  all  joy  to 
fall  into  temptation."  This  paradoxical  state  of  mind  as  it 
seems  at  first  view,  is  the  result  of  the  demonstration  which 
faith  makes,  by  which  tribulation  and  temptation  are  seen 
to  be  instruments  of  moral  discipline,  and  purgation,   which, 


276  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

tiltboush  puinfnl  in  their  operalion,  and  often  abhorrent  in 
their  outward  incidents,  are  still  most  useful  in  their  effects; 
and  are  connected  with  issues  so  delightful  and  precious, 
that  the  mind  looks  be3ond  the  means  to  the  end,  and  can 
be  said  even  to  glory  in  the  one  and  to  count  all  joy  to 
fall  into    the  other. 

And  faith  again  acts  as  a  prominent  and  potent  guide 
to  the  affections.  They  follow  its  attractions,  or  are  forced 
into  exercise  by  its  propulsion.  "With  the  heart"  (and  the 
heart  is  the  seat  of  the  atfections)  "man  believeth"  is  a 
scriptural  expression;  and  although  it  is  not  to  be  taken  as 
a  metaphysical  canon  (for  it  was  not  given  as  such),  yet 
it  states  a  truth  which  is  almost  universal,  and  invariable, 
and  so  entitled  to  be  called  a  metaphysical  canon.  Faith 
and  love  in  the  common  notions  of  mankind  are  so  inter- 
mingled that  they  seem  to  be  but  different  sides  of  one 
and  the  same  sentiment.  Where  love  is,  faith  is  at  the 
bottom  of  it;  and  when  faith  is  lost,  love  departs  with 
it.  The  diiection  which  any  man's  atfections  will  take,  the 
force  and  temperature  of  them,  the  class  of  objects  upon 
which  they  will  fix  themselves,  will  be  determined  by  his  faith. 
The  Bible  says,  "love  not  the  world,  nor  the  things  of  the 
world."  Again,  "set  your  affections  upon  things  above." 
Here  are  two  ditferent  spheres  and  modes  in  which  the 
affections  may  be  employed.  None  shall  decide  in  which  of 
the  two,  in  any  particular  case,  they  shall  be  employed. 
It  will  be  the  individual's  faith.  According  as  the  world 
and  things  of  the  world,  on  the  one  side,  and  the  things 
above,  on  the  other  side,  are  looked  at  and  estimated  by 
him  as  the  facts  which  they  are  represented  as  being  in 
the  Scriptures,  will  the  result  be  whether  he  shall  choose 
and  pursue  the  one  or  the  other;  that  is,  whether  his  affec- 
tions shall  be  given  to  the  one  or  the  other.  It  is  evident, 
therefore,   that    we    must  assign  to  faith  a  very  conspicuous 


INCREASE    OF    FAITII.  277 

and  a  very  influential  position  in  the  economy  of  rational 
life.  We  may  say  of  it  that  it  holds  the  helm  of  the  soul, 
and  acts  as  the  arbiter  of  destiny.  Its  agency  touches  any 
faculty,  and  covers  any  department  of  mans  complicated 
organism.  It  establishes  tlie  condition  upon  which  the  con- 
science, the  intellect,  and  the  affections  generally,  perform 
parts,  and  take  their  courses  and  characters.  It,  In  fact,  their 
determines  in  such  cases  what  the  man  is,  and  wliat  he  is 
to  be;  for  the  conduct  and  its  fruits  are,  after  all,  with 
every  man,  but  the  expression  ot  what  he  really  has  believed. 
The  right  kind  of  faith — that  which  the  faith  of  religion 
must  be — such  a  faith  as  the  Apostles  prayed  for  in  the 
text,  is,  therefore,  a  matter  to  be  desired,  and  to  be  counted 
as  superlatively  excellent.  Now,  this  is  the  first  thought 
brought  to  our  attention  by  the  text;  and  the  second,  seems 
to  be  this,  that  faith,  desirable  and  excellent  as  it  is,  es- 
sential to  religion,  both  in  its  inception  and  growth,  as  it 
is,  is  not  always  possessed  in  an  adequate  measure  by  religi- 
ous persons.  The  Apostles  pray,  "increase  our  faith.''  The}' 
wanted  more  of  it;  not  merely  because  it  was  in  its  nature 
good  and  proficable,  but  because  they  needed  more  of  it  to 
enable  them  to  cany  out  the  obligations  which  their  religion 
imposed  upon  them.  They  had  not  all  the  faith  which  the 
exigencies  of  their  position  demanded.  Some,  they  had,  but 
not  enough;  they  come  therefore  with  the  petition,  "increase 
our  faith."  To  the  same  effect,  we  hear  the  Savior  sav  to 
them  on  another  occasion,  "O!  ye  of  little  faith,"  and 
we  read  in  the  Scriptures  of  a  "weak"  faith,  a  "failing" 
faith,  a  faith  that  is  lacking,  and  a  faith  that  is  growino-; 
expressions  which  all  indicate  the  possibility  and  the  fre- 
quency of  the  fact  of  faith  being  possessed  by  men  (who 
professedl}'  have  it)  in  an  imperfect  degree.  It  is  no  un- 
common thing,  I  suspect,  for  an  increase  of  faith  to  be 
needed  by  the  followers  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 


278  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

The  prayer  of  tlie  disciples,  presented  when  he  was  on 
earth,  is  a  prayer  which  his  disciples,  ever  since  his  ascent 
to  heaven,  have  probably  had  just  as  much  occasion  to  use. 
A  most  impressive  prediction  that  this  would  be  the  case, 
he  has  left  upon  record,  in  that  place  in  Luke's  gospel, 
where  he  asks  the  question,  "When  the  son  of  man  cometh, 
shall  he  find  faith  on  the  earth?  "  If  the  works,  according 
to  the  rule  laid  down  by  St.  James,  are  the  proof  of  faith, 
and  the  measure  of  faith,,  then  the  works  of  Christians  be- 
ing  taken  into  view  at  an}^  period,  or  at  any  spot,  the  con- 
clusion would  be  adopted,  it  is  to  be  feared,  without  a 
moment's  hesitation,  that  a  defective  faith  was  a  fault 
patent  among  them  universally.  Their  works  are  not  in  all 
points  what  faith  would  make  them.  More  faith  would 
make  better  works — better  both  in  quality  and  quantity. 
And  you  have  rightly  explained  the  defects  and  incon- 
sistencies, the  blemishes  and  deformities,  which  you  have 
detected  as  you  have  cast  your  eye  over  the  church,  when 
you  have  said,  "there  is  too  little  faith  in  the  church." 
Take,  for  instance,  those  social  duties  which  grow  out 
of  the  relations  of  man  to  his  neighbor  (of  which  an  ex- 
ample is  given  us  in  the  context  in  the  forgiving  of  the 
trespasses  of  a  brother),  and  how  differently  should  we  see 
them  discharged,  if  Christians  had  the  faith  which  they 
ought  to  have!  "If  thy  brother  trespass  against  thee  in  a 
day,  and  seven  times  in  a  day  turn  again  to  thee,  saying, 
I  repent,  thou  shalt  forgive  him."  Is  tins  the  rule  which 
we  ordinarily  see  religious  persons  follow? 

Are  they  as  free  from  resentment  and  malice,  and  as  full 
of  kindness  and  forbearance  as  this  kind  of  conduct  would 
imply?  Alas,  no!  Christians  are  seen  to  quarrel,  to  har- 
bor anger,  to  indulge  in  revenge,  to  go  to  law,  to  chafe 
passionately  under  a  wrong,  and  contend  fiercely  for  a  right, 
just  like  those  persons    who  make   no    pretensions    to   being 


INCREASE    OF    FAITH.  279 

Christians.  Not  all  of  tlieni  of  course;  nor  often  perhaps  to 
the  same  extent,  as  these  latter  persons,  hut  still,  too  many  of 
them  and  to  too  great  a  degree,  to  be  at  all  consistent  with 
the  ditference  which  the  Uospel  teaches,  there  is  between 
the  spirit  of  Christ  and  the  spirit  of  the  world.  Faith  has 
failed  to  act  here,  or  has  lost  its  power,  or  these  things 
would  not  be  so.  Tiie  rule  of  the  Scriptures  is  plain; 
and  conscience  adopts  and  applies  the  rule  of  Scripture 
when  it  is  perceived.  If  the  rule  had  been  permitted  to 
reach  and  inform  the  conscience,  in  other  words,  if  it  had 
been  seen  and  acknowledged  intelligently  to  be  the  law  of 
God  the  conduct  of  the  party  would  have  been  different.  It 
would  have  been  what  the  Gospel  requires.  An  increase  of 
faith  would  have  made  a  bolder  and  a  more  enlightened 
conscience.  It  would  have  brought  the  authority  of  God  to 
sustain  more  distinctly  these  social  duties,  and  they  would 
have  been  performed.  It  would  have  given  the  force  and 
weight  of  a  fact  to  the  law  of  God,  and  it  would  have 
had  to  be  recognized  by  such  treatment  as  is  due  to  a  fact. 
It  would  not  have  been  evaded  or  ignored.  It  would  not 
have  been  set  aside  or  overlooked  any  more  than  a  fact  in 
nature  would. 

Again  we  shall  conclude  that  an  imperfect  faith  exists 
amongst  Christians  if  we  look  at  the  extreme  interest  they 
seem  to  take  in  the  things  of  this  world,  and  the  faint  im- 
pression they  seem  to  carry  with  them,  of  a  future  one,  for 
which  this  is  designed  to  be  preparatory.  The  Scriptures 
draw  a  map,  so  to  speak,  of  life  which  is  peculiar  to  them- 
selves. It  contains  a  region,  nay,  the  greater  part  of  it,  by 
far,  is  occupied  by  a  region  which  has  no  place  at  all  in 
the  maps  of  life  which  uninspired  authors  have  made.  This 
region  is  the  eternity  which  stretches  away  beyond  the  hori- 
zon of  time.  The  Christian  professes  to  see  this  eternity  in 
the  map  by  which  he  is  guided  in  his  march  through  life  as 


280  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

clearly  as  he  does  the  countries  which  are  present  to  him, 
and  through  which  he  is  actually  passing.  If  this  is  the 
fact,  he  Avill  of  course,  compare  the  future  with  tiie  present 
as  one  fuct  is  compared  with  another,  and  he  will  assign 
the  due  importance  and  value  to  each;  and  not  act  towards 
either  so  as  to  contradict  the  existenr-e  of  the  other.  He 
will  not  become  such  a  spiritualist  as  to  deny  his  relations 
to  the  present  w'orld,  nor  will  he  on  the  other  hand,  he- 
come  such  a  sensualist  (if  I  may  use  the  term)  as  to  deny 
his  relations  to  an  invisible  eternity,  and  disregard  the  obli- 
o-ations  of  looking  after  his  well-being  in  the  future  world. 
If  eternity  is  nothing  to  him  practically,  if  his  course  in 
the  present  world  is  not  in  any  degree  modified  or  controlled 
by  it,  it  is  because  he  really  does  not  believe  in  any  eterni- 
tv.  He  has  no  faith  in  such  a  world.  If  he  had,  it  would 
tell  upon  his  polic}',  and  treatment  towards  the  present 
world.  Where  Christians  are  seen  absorbed  with  temporal 
matters,  with  their  whole  heart  filled  with  the  things  of 
this  life,  its  cares,  its  pleasures,  its  gains  and  its  honors,  it 
is  evidence,   that  their  faith  is  defective. 

The  same  thing  is  indicated  by  a  want  of  zeal  and 
effort,  on  the  part  of  religious  people,  for  the  diffusion  of 
religion,  or  what  we  ordinarily  call  the  conversion  of  men. 
The  Scriptures  affirm  things  of  men  in  their  natural  condi- 
tion which,  if  they  be  facts,  are  adapted  to  fill  every 
benevolent  mind  with  solicitude  for  them;  and  to  lead  to  a 
most  earnest  endeavor  to  bring  them  out  of  their  natural  con 
dition,  into  a  better  one.  Now,  faith  makes  these  things 
facts  to  those  who  possess  it.  They  are  credited  by  such 
persons — received  as  true — -and  they  must  have  an  effect 
upon  the  feelings  and  actions  of  these  persons.  They  must 
make  them  sympathize  with  those  whom  their  faith  leads 
them  to  regard  as  in  the  extreme  of  peril  and  misery,  and 
yearn  over    them  with  affectionate    longing    for    their    salva- 


INCREASE    OF    FAITH.  281 

tion.  And  where  such  indications  of  true  Christian  phihin- 
throphy  are  wanting  the  inference  is  reasonal)le  and  uu- 
av()idal)le,  that  these  persons  are  lacking;  in  faith.  And 
the  same  defect  is  made  apparent  again  by  the  conduct  of 
religious  parents  in  reference  to  their  children.  A  very  im- 
portant branch  of  the  stewardship  with  which  God  has  en- 
trusted his  people  consists  in  the  nurture  and  tutelage  of 
children.  A  wide  field  of  Christian  duty  lies  in  this  direc- 
tion. The  education  of  a  child  is  something  with  w^iich 
faith  necessarily  has  much  to  do.  Faith  will  make  many 
things  facts  in  regard  to  the  child  which  will  have  an  im- 
portant bearing  upon  the  system  of  training  to  which  it  is 
subjected  by  the  parent  or  teacher.  It  cannot  be  educated 
for  the  world  merely,  when  faith  has  demonstrated  that  it 
was  made  principally  for  another  one.  It  cannot  be  taught 
that  any  selfish  end  is  the  object  for  which  it  is  to  strug- 
gle and  labor,  when  faith  has  made  known  the  obligation 
which  binds  it  to  live  to  the  glory  of  God.  And,  when 
persons  professing  to  be  believers  in  the  Gospel  are  seen 
rearing  their  families  for  this  world,  adjusting  their  educa- 
tion exclusively  to  conditions  and  results  connected  with  the 
present  state,  as  if  they  had  no  interest  in  any  state  be- 
yond, we  are  forced  to  conclude  that  faith  must  have  be- 
come very  weak,  or  ceased  to  act  at  all,  in  reference  to 
this  great  department  of  Christian  duty.  Now  these  signs 
indicating  an  inadequate  measure  of  faith  in  those  who  ex- 
hibit them  are  common  enough,  to  make  us  confess  that 
the  occasion  for  the  prayer  of  the  text  is  one  which  is  b}' 
no  means  of  rare  occurrence.  The  disciples  eveiy  where  may 
come  as  the  twelve  did  of  old,  and  beg  their  Master  to  in- 
crease their  faith;  for  there  is  no  question  that  there  is  a 
demand  for  a  vastly  larger  amount  than  exists  in  the  church. 
And  this  leads  me  to  the  third  topic  suggested  by  the 
text;  and  this  is  that  Faith  is  something  which  is  bestowed 


2S2  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

by  God  in  answer  to  prayer.  It  is  one  of  those  spiritual 
gifts  wbicli  He,  the  sovereign  author  of  grace,  dispenses. 
Wlien  we  have  proved  the  excellency  and  desirableness  of 
it,  and  then  have  shown  that,  in  point  of  fact,  there  is 
a  great  want,  or  a  great  iusufliciency  of  faith  existing  in 
the  religious  world,  we  have  demonstrated  the  necessity  of 
a  resort  to  some  measures  for  an  immediate  increase  of 
faith.  And  here,  the  text  tells  ns  what  we  must  do, 
and  where  we  must  look.  Not  denying  the  importance  and 
utility  of  all  those  efforts  for  the  revival  and  invigoration 
ol"  faith  which  man  himself  can  employ,  we  are  taught  that 
it  is  from  God  absolutely,  that  we  are  still  to  expect  and 
seek  the  blessing.  "Faith  is  the  gift  of  God,"  distinctly 
sajs  the  Apostle  in  his  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians,  and  in  a 
hundred  other  places  in  the  New  Testament  it  is  spoken  of 
in  the  same  way.  Spite  of  all  that  man  can  do,  without 
the  agency  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  true  faith  can  never  be  gen- 
erated in  the  soul,  for  it  is  one  of  the  fruits  of  the  spirit 
expressly  named.  There  must  be  the  same  kind  of  applica- 
tion made,  and  to  the  same  source,  as  there  was  in  the 
case  of  the  Apostles.  The  priiyer  of  the  earnest  heart  long- 
ing for  the  benefit,  must  bear  the  petition  to  the  throne  of 
grace.  "Lord  increase  our  faith. ""  This  is  a  point  of  great 
importance.  God  will  be  honored  in  the  dispensation  of 
spiritual  blessings.  Man  can  have  nothing  which  he  does 
not  receive  and  for  which  he  does  not  give  God  glory. 
And  he  who  strives  to  make  the  acquisition  of  any  grace 
independently  of  his  aid  will  be  disappointed.  He  opened 
the  heart  of  Lydia,  that  she  believed  the  things  reported  to 
her;  and  so,  he  must  do  with  every  other  heart;  not  to  the 
exclusion  of  natural  rational  efforts  on  the  part  of  the  indi- 
vidual; but  in  connection  with  such  efforts  put  forth  in  the 
spirit  of  humble  self-distrust,  which  looks  all  the  while 
away  from    the  effort,   and  relies    upon  the    agency  of    Him 


INCREASE    OF    FAITH.  283 

wbom   prayer  can    reacli,   and    who  has    said    "My    grace    is 
suflicient  for   you." 

And  now  let  me  sa}'  in  conclusion,  no  serious-minded 
person  among  yon,  who  has  gone  far  into  the  world,  or 
been  associated  long  with  it,  can  have  failed  to  be  painfully 
impressed  with  the  conviction,  that  there  is  a  great  and 
general  lack  of  faith  amongst  this  generation.  The  age 
through  which  we  have  been  passing,  has  been  emphatically 
a  carnal  age.  A  bold,  inquisitive,  and  irreverent  age.  It 
has  little  docility  or  meekness.  It  is  conceited  and  arro- 
gant. It  is  secular  and  sordid.  It  is  materialistic  and 
utilitarian.  It  is  a  busy  age,  one  that  is  making  the  most 
poss'ible  of  the  present.  So  much  indeed  that  it  hardly 
cares  to  hold  on  to  the  past  at  all;  and  has  hardly  leisure 
to  glance,  even  cursoril}'  at  the  future.  God's  word  is  in 
great  danger  of  being  laid  aside,  as  an  obsolete  statute- 
book  in  such  an  age.  Eternity  is  liable  to  be  classed  with 
the  dreams  of  poets.  Motives  drawn  from  a  future  life, 
from  relations  to  God,  from  principles  of  abstract  morality 
and  truth,  are  likely  to  be  discarded  as  wire-drawn  subtil- 
lies,  too  intangible  to  be  heeded  by  practical  men.  And 
religion  is  likely  to  congeal  into  a  frigid  formalism,  or  evapo- 
rate into  an  airy  sentimcntalism,  under  the  operation  of  the 
sinister  influences  to  which  it  is,  on  these  accounts,  exposed. 
Our  age  wants  faith;  such  faith  as  our  ancestors  had-^the 
faith  that  makes  little  children  of  men,  and  so  produces 
candidates  for  the  kingdom  of  God.  We  have  all  been  liv- 
ing too  much  under  the  sway  of  sense,  under  the  power  of 
the  flesh,  and  too  little  under  the  guidance  of  faith,  and 
under  the  control  of  the  spirit.  Look  into  your  religious 
condition,  my  Christian  friends,  and  see  if  this  is  not  so! 
You  want  more  faith,  or  else,  let  me  tell  you,  you  have  far 
too  much.  If  3^our  faith  is  right,  then  j'ou  want  more  of 
it.      For  if  the  things  it  makes  facts,   are  verities,   then  you 


284  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

do  not  realize,  or  believe  them  half  enough.  They  are  not 
having  half  the  influence  over  your  characters  and  lives 
that  they  are  entitled  to  have.  But  if  they  are  not  veri- 
ties, if  your  faith  is  a  delusion,  then  I  say,  you  have  far 
too  much.  It  is  a  pity  to  suffer  the  tbraldom  to  error 
(partial  though  it  may  be),  which  you  are  now  enduring. 
But  this  YOU  do  not  admit.  Your  faith  is  not  vain.  The 
Scriptures  are  the  infallible  word  of  God.  They  are  the 
world's  great  Ararat  of  Truth,  where  the  soul  reposes  in 
the  only  harbor  which  offers  it  anchorage,  in  which  is 
all  else  a  fathomless  ocean ;  and  they  cannot  be  relinquished. 
Your  only  wise  course,  your  obvious  duty,  then,  is  to  get 
more  faith,  or  to  let  the  faith  you  nominally  hold,  become 
an  active,  living  principle,  so  that  the  fruit  shall  correspond 
with  the  tree,  or  the  man  shall  be  the  fit  exemplar  of  his 
creed.  If  your  faith  is  worth  having  at  all,  you  want  more 
of  it.  You  want  it  for  3'onr  own  soul's  sake,  for  the  sake 
of  the  generation  whose  convei'sion  you  are  appointed  to 
seek,  for  the  sake  of  your  Father  in  Heaven,  who  has  com- 
manded you  to  let  your  light  so  shine  in  the  world,  that 
others  seeing  your  good  works  may  be  lead  to  glorify  Him. 
If  the  doctrines  and  precepts  of  your  religion  do  not  de- 
serve to  be  embraced  completely  and  lived  up  to,  to  the 
letter,  they  had  better  be  abandoned  altogether,  for  they 
are  only  a  yoke  upon  your  necks,  to  gall  3'ou  at  every  mo- 
tion you  make.  A  Christian  ever  condemned  by  half  his 
creed  is  the  most  miserable  of  men;  finding  rest  no  where; 
drawing  confidence  and  satisfaction  from  neither  world. 
You  want  a  faith  that  shall  leave  no  article  of  your  creed 
to  condemn  you;  which  shall  show  that  you  are  treating 
everything  which  the  creed  contains  as  a  fact,  and  giving 
to  it  the  attention  and  value  which  such  a  fact  deserves. 
And  this  faith,  as  the  Apostle  John  says,  will  be  your  victory. 
It  will  make  you  free  and  triumphant;  rejoicing  in  the  liber- 


INCREASE    OP    FAITH.  285 

t}'  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  Let  rue  exhort  you,  lu}'  Christian 
frieuds,  to  uiake  this  prayer  of  the  Apostles,  your  owu. 
An  increase  of  faith,  a  clearer  sense  of  eternal  and  divine 
things,  a  deeper  feeling  of  God's  presence,  and  the  Savior's 
love,  a  living  light  and  power  imparted  to  the  Scriptures, 
aud  a  conviction  of  the  truth  of  the  revelation  shining  in 
the  soul  with  the  vividness  and  glory  of  sunlight;  these  are 
benefits  comprised  in  the  blessings;  and  these  are  what  we 
must  have,  if  we  would  not  forfeit,  like  the  slothful  ser- 
vant who  buried  his  talent  (the  grace  already  bestowed),  and 
put  ourselves  in  peril  of  sharing  at  last,  the  portion  of 
hypocrites  and  unbelievers. 


FINDING  THE  MESSIAS. 

(SACRAMENTAL.) 


JUNE  5,   185,2. 


"He  tirst  lindeth  his  own  brother,  Simon,  and  saith  unto 
him,  we  have  found  the  Messias,  which  is,  beinu;  interpreted,  tlie 
Christ."— John  1:41 


IT  is  evident  from  this  remark  of  Andrew  to  liis  brother, 
that  it  was  a  matter  of  common  faith  amongst  the 
Jews,  that  a  personage  whom  they  were  accustomed  to 
conceive  of  under  the  title  of  the  Messias,  or  "Anointed 
one,"  was  sometime  to  appear  amongst  them.  From  the 
highest  to  the  lowest,  from  the  High  Priest  at  Jerusalem  to 
the  woman  of  Samaria,  and  the  fishermen  of  Galilee,  the 
expectation  of  such  a  personage  pervaded  the  nation.  And 
the  coming  of  this  Messias,  they  regarded  as  possible  at 
any  time.  Especially,  we  have  reason  to  believe,  about  the 
period  of  the  birth  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  they  were  led  to 
look  for  him.  Many,  like  Simeon,  were  "waiting  for  the 
consolation  of  Israel,"  and  were  entertaining  the  confident 
persuasion  that  "they  should  not  see  death  before  they  had 
seen  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  Hence  Andrew's  positive  an- 
nouncement "we  have  found  the  Messias"  does  not  seem  to 
have  struck  Peter's  mind  as  anything  strange  or  improbable. 
The  ideas  which  prevailed  amongst  the  people  as  to  who 
this  expected  personage  was  to  be,  and  what  offices 
he  was  to  perform,  were  probably  very  various.  They 
all  agreed  in  one  point,  however,  that  he  was  to  be 
a   deliverer,   or   one    who    should    redeem    Israel  from    some 

286 


FINDING    THE    MESSIAS.  287 

or  all  of  the  evils,  under  wliicli  tbey  were  sufi'ering.  Amidst 
the  manifold  wrongs  anil  miseries  with  which  his  na- 
ture was  burdened  no  Jew  could  fail  to  see  something 
which  seemed  to  demand  the  presence  of  the  Messias,  and 
which  made  his  coming  an  object  of  eager  anticipation. 
Now,  in  a  certain  sense — and  not  a  very  equivocal  one, 
either — this  i)08ture  of  the  Jewish  nation,  in  reference  to 
an  expected  Messias,  was  only  the  type  of  that  in  which 
the  whole  world  was  standing.  For,  what  does  history  teach 
us  but  that  the  world  has  since  been  filled  and  agitated  with 
some  great  hope  and  expectation  of  a  Redeemer  who  should 
raise  it  out  of  all  actual  disorder  and  wretchedness  into  an 
ideal  state  of  blessedness  and  security?  A  mighty  travail, 
we  may  say,  has  been  always  going  on  in  the  earth,  the 
fruit  of  Avhich  has  been  waited  for  as  the  earths  Savior. 
The  Jews,  taught  and  guided  by  the  Scriptures,  knew  what 
it  was  for  which  they  were  yearning,  but  tlu;  (J entile  nations, 
unaided  by  such  a  light,  j'earued  in  darkness,  Un'  a  good 
which  they  could  not  define.  But,  nevertheless,  they  did 
yearn;  and  have  always  yearned.  They  have  always  been 
dreaming  amidst  their  burdens  and  chains,  of  a  Divine  Re- 
deemer who  should  yet  be  given  to  them ;  and  they  have 
been  ready  to  give  uttei'ance  to  their  faith  whenever  some 
eminent  benefactor  has  appeared  amongst  them,  as  the  peo- 
ple of  Lystra  did  when  they  cried  out  when  they  saw  a 
cripple  miraculously  healed  by  Paul,  "the  Gods  are  come 
down  to  us  in  the  likeness  of  men."  The  vision  of  a 
golden  age  to  come,  when  the  earth,  relieved  of  its  woes, 
shall  mirror  in  its  happiness  the  beauty  and  bliss  of  heaven, 
has  never  ceased  to  float  before  "their  minds.  And  as  sage 
after  sage,  and  hero  after  hero  has  arisen,  they  have  gath- 
ered around  him,  expecting  that  under  his  potent  ministry 
the  auspcious  f-poch  would  begin.  "Men,"  says  an  emi- 
nent English  wri;ei',  "have  nowhere  acquiesced  in  the  world's 


Z»8  A    PASTOR  S    VALEDICTORY. 

evil  or  the  world's  law.  Everywhere  they  have  had  a  tra- 
dition of  a  time  when  thej'  were  nearer  to  God  than  now, 
— a  confident  hope  of  a  time  when  they  should  be  brought 
nearer  again.  Through  all  the  world's  history  has  run  the 
hope  of  a  redemption  from  the  evil  which  oppresses  it;  and 
this  hope  has  continually  linked  itself  on  to  some  siugle 
man.  Weak  and  helpless  in  themselves,  the  generations  of 
men  have  evermore  been  looking  after  one  in  whom  they 
may  find  all  which  they  seek  vainly  in  themselves  and  in 
those  around  them — redemption  of  the  world's  wrong — de- 
livery from  the  world's  yoke — vindication  of  the  honor  of 
the  race — souls  of  heroic  stature,  in  whom  all  the  features 
that  are  imparted  with  a  niggard  hand  unto  others  shall  be 
found  gloriously  and  prodigally  combined.  Such,  in  almost 
every  religion,  men  have  learned  to  look  back  to  as  having 
already  come — such  we  find  that  they  are  everywhere  ex- 
pecting as  yet  to  appear."  In  a  word,  the  world  has 
always  been  hoping  and  waiting  for  its  Messias.  And  to 
come  down  to  man,  as  an  individual,  might  not  these  same 
terms  and  expressions  be  used,' truly,  to  describe  his  condi- 
tion everywhere?  Is  he  not  always  watching  and  long- 
ing for  something  which  shall  give  him  what  he  needs  and 
make  him  what  he  ought  to  be?  Is  not  his  inquiry  all  his 
life-long,  "who  will  show  us  any  good?"  Who  will  be  our 
Messias?  Our  Prophet  to  teach  us  what  our  minds  want  to 
know?  Our  Priest  to  deliver  our  conscience  from  their 
sense  of  guilt  and  their  fears?  Our  King  to  support  us 
and  protect  us  from  our  enemies?  There  is  no  man  who 
takes  an  intelligent  survey  of  his  state  naturally  but  is  con- 
scious of  evils  in  it  for  which  he  needs  relief.  And  the 
soul,  when  its  movements  are  rightly  interpreted,  is  ever 
struggling  through  one  channel  or  one  device  or  another,  to 
find  this  relief.  Crippled  and  embarrassed  and  knowing  it- 
self to  be  wrong,   and    yet  not    knowing    how    to    get  right, 


FINDING    THE    MESSIAS.  289 

feeling  itself  to  be  really  fumishiug  and  yet  not  knowing 
what  will  fully  satisfy  it — it  is  forever  out  of  its  ruin, 
more  or  less,  articulately  lifting  up  its  cry  for  a  helper. 
Like  the  sick  man  conscious  that  a  mortal  disorder  is  lurk- 
ing and  spreading  in  bis  system — it  ceaselessly  implores  the 
presence  of  a  physician,  or  spends  the  little  strength  it  can 
command  in  searching  for  the  charm,  or  the  herb,  or  the 
spring  by  whose  potent  virtue  it  may  expel  its  maladies  and 
gain  health  ami  life.  Now  the  explanation  of  this  dissatis- 
faction which  keeps  mankind  struggling  and  aspiring  after 
a  better  state  than  that  which  they  find  themselves  in,  when  we 
come  to  the  bottom  of  the  matter  is  that  they  are  estranged 
from  God.  Their  proper  relations  with  him  are  interrupted; 
and  heuce  they  have  lost  the  true  centre  of  rest.  The 
world  is  out  of  order;  and  the  soul  out  of  order,  just  be- 
cause it  is  standing  out  of  its  proper  position  and  bearing 
in  regard  to  God — its  bead,  and  source  and  support  and 
end.  A  wicked  world  must  be  a  distrusted  and  unhappy 
world;  and  a  wicked  soul  must  be  aii  uneasy,  dissatisfied 
soul.  "There  is  no  peace  to  the  wicked,"  is  the  utterance 
of  Eternal  Wisdom,  and  it  has  been  written  as  a  law  upon 
the  pillars  of  the  universe.  For  any  world  or  an}^  soul  to 
be  independent  of  God  and  yet  be  complete  in  itself  and 
in  its  condition,  so  as  to  be  conscious  of  no  want  and  no 
loss,  would  be  for  God  to  admit  another  kingdom  into  bis 
own,  or  to  tolerate  in  his  dominion  a  power  that  would  be 
foreign  to  himself.  Loyalty  to  him,  in  his  creatures,  would 
cease  to  be  of  any  value  since  the  rebel  would  stand  on  the 
same  ground  as  the  faithful  subject.  Evil  and  good  would 
lose  the  distinction  that  ought  to  separate  them.  And  thus 
he  who  should  say  to  evil,  "be  thou  very  good,"  would 
find  himself  as  wise  in  his  choice  and  as  sure  of  his  happi- 
ness, as  the  pure  spirit  who  should  keep  himself  as  spotless 
as  Gabriel  in  bis  virtue.      The    connection  then  between  the 


290  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

apostticy  of  a  world  or  soul  from  God,  or  in  other  words, 
between  sin  in  the  world  or  soul,  and  dissatisfaction  and 
want  and  misery,  is  a  fixed  matter,  an  ordinance  of  God, 
as  certain  and  unchangeable,  as  his  own  sovereignty,  or  Ins 
own  holiness.  And  it  is  because  of  the  rupture  which 
apostacy  or  sin  has  made  between  our  world  and  each  indi- 
vidual man  of  our  race  and  God — that  this  spectacle  of 
ceaseless  unrest  and  dissatisfaction — and  this  cry  for  a  de- 
liverer, a  helper  to  come  and  relieve  what  is  disorderly 
and  heal  what  is  diseased  and  suppl}'  what  is  wanting  is 
eveirmore  going  up.  The  demand  is  for  one  who  shall  bind 
together  again  the  broken  tie,  who  shall  restore  the  severed 
harmony  between  heaven  and  earth, — who  shall  upon  the 
basis  of  a  new  covenant  bring  God  and  man  into  fellowship 
asain,  so  that  the  relations  which  at  first  subsisted  between 
them,  when  man  was  the  godlike  tenant  of  an  Eden-world 
and  the  Lord  walked  with  him  as  friend  with  friend,  shall 
be  re-established.  And  to  do  this  work  and  meet  this  de- 
mand, must  be  the  office  of  the  world's  Messias.  The  per- 
sonage, therefore,  must  be  more  than  a  sage,  or  hero;  more 
than  a  founder  of  a  school  of  philosophy;  more  than  a 
reformer.  lie  must  be  one  who  can  stand  as  a  peacemaker 
between  God  and  man.  He  must  Ijc  one  who  comes  from 
God  (for  with  God  must  originate  the  overtures  of  peace), 
and  who  leads  man  to  God;  and  he  must  be  able  to  lay  a 
foundation  by  himself  and  in  himself,  upon  which  all  the 
conditions  necessary  to  peace  between  God  and  man  shall 
appear  fulfilled,  and  all  the  relations  implied  in  a  state  of 
peace  between  them  shall  be  constituted  and  perpetuated. 
He  must  be,  in  short,  just  what  the  term,  Messias,  signi- 
fies— one  anointed,  or  commissioned  by  God — and  he  must 
be  the  world's  prophet,  to  teach  man  his  real  condition  and 
need,  and  reveal  to  him  the  Divine  methods  by  which  it  is 
proposed    to  save    him;    and    the    world's    priest,   to    remove 


FINDING    THE    MESSIAS.  291 

man's  guilt  b}'  an  atonement  of  infinite  value  and  so  har- 
monize justice  with  mercy  in  the  work  of  salvation;  and  the 
world's  king,  to  control  and  govern  all  things  for  the  suc- 
cessful accomplishment  of  man's  redemption  and  for  the 
complete  assurance  of  the  laboring  and  heavy-laden  ones, 
who  go  to   him   for  rest. 

And  such  a  Mcssias,  Andrew  declared  to  Peter,  had  at 
last  api)eared  in  the  world,  in  the  person  of  Jesus.  In  him 
he  recognized  tlie  long  needed  and  expected  Deliverer,  "the 
desire  of  all  nations"  and  all  souls.  And  m^-  friends, 
what  has  he  expressed  in  his  confession  but  the  language 
and  the  faith  of  all  God's  people,  since  his  day?  The  very 
mark  of  the  church,  which  gives  it  its  peculiarity,  and  the 
very  central  article  of  its  creed  and  testimony  is  this,  "we 
have  found  the  Messias.  "  Our  wants  have  met  the  object 
which  relieves  and  satisfies  them.  Him,  for  whom  man  has 
so  long  waited  and  prayed;  him  for  whom  the  blind  world 
is  yet  crying  with  piteous  lament,  we  have  found.  And 
over  the  wide  sighing  of  desire,  "O  that  T  knew  where  I 
might  find  him,"  which  comes  up,  almost  like  a  wail,  from 
the  burdened  earth,  we  fling  our  joyful  shout  to  "he  has 
come,  we  have  found  the  Messias!"  Yes,  my  Christian 
brethren,  in  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  we  have  found  a  Savior  for 
the  world,  and  for  that  which,  to  each  one  of  us,  is  the 
most  important  thing  in  the  world — our  own  souls.  To  us 
deliverance  from  all  the  evils  of  sin  presents  itself,  not  as 
a  thing  to  be  desired  and  hoped  for,  not  as  a  poet's  fancy 
or  a  dreamer's  dream,  but  as  a  veritable  fact,  an  actual  ad- 
vent of  a  Redeemer,  in  whom  all  that  men  have  imagined 
or  desired  is  more  than  fulfilled.  To  us  Jesus  is  the 
Savior.  This  man  who  we  know  (just  as  we  know  anything 
else  that  depends  upon  testimony,)  has  come  into  and  lived 
upon  our  earth,  we  believe,  was  the  Ijord's  anointed,  sent  to 
bind  up  the  broken-hearted,   to  proclaim  libert}'  to  the  cap- 


292  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

tives,  and  the  opening  of  the  prison  doors  to  them  that  are 
bound.  In  the  work  which  be  performed  we  see  an  ample 
foundation  laid  for  the  restoration  of  harmony  between  God 
and  man;  and  around  him,  as  a  nucleus,  we  see  the  mate- 
rial gathered  which  shall  make  a  new  creation  of  this  dis- 
ordered world,  and  construct  out  of  the  chaos  that  now 
welters  around  us  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth,  wherein 
shall  dwell  righteousness.  There  is  no  evil  which  sin  has 
introduced  into  man's  nature  or  state  for  which  we  do  not 
see  the  remed}'  in  Christ.  There  needs  but  that  a  soul 
should  come  fidly  under  the  operation  of  the  powers  he  has 
brought  into  the  world  to  make  of  it  a  redeemed  soul,  and 
there  needs  but  that  a  nation  should  do  the  same  to  make 
of  it  a  redeemed  nation.  We  want,  therefore,  no  better 
Messias,  and  we  are  deaf  to  every  preacher  that  announces 
to  us  another  Savior.  While  the  cry,  "to  here,  "or  "to  there," 
is  ever  and  anon  ringing  through  the  credulous  crowds,  as 
some  new  pretender  rises  up  and  promises  to  heal  the 
world's  woes — we  calmly  look  back  to  Bethlehem  and  Cal- 
vary and  say,  "the  true  Messias  has  been  found — he  was 
born,  and  died  and  rose  again  and  lives  and  reigns  in 
Jesus."  And  this,  brethren,  is  our  distinction  as  Christians, 
that  whilst  others  are  still,  through  their  unbelief,  groping 
in  the  dark  and  chasing  the  phantoms  that  cheat  them  with 
vain  promises  of  relief,  we  have  been  enabled  to  see  and 
know  the  Messias.  He  came  to  his  own,  but  they  received 
him  not.  He  is  still  in  the  world,  but  the  world  will  uot 
believe  in  him.  And  here  is  the  most  amazing  and  mourn- 
ful demonstration  of  the  wretchedness  in  which  mankind 
are  involved,  that  they  are  so  stupified  and  perverted  by 
sin,  that  they  do  not  know  the  helper  when  he  comes  to 
them.  The  Son  of  God  is  among  them,  and  the  evil  spirits 
flee  before  him  everywhere,  forsaking,  at  his  command,  the 
poor  victims  of  their   cruelty;    but  the    infatuated  onlookers 


FINDIN(i    THE    MESSIAS.  293 

refuse  to  believe  it  is  the  Son  of  God,  and  seem  to  sa}- 
in  their  folly,  "he  hath  Beelzebub,  and  by  the  prince  of 
the  devils  casteth  he  out  devils."  But  we,  with  happier 
visions,  can  discern  in  him,  the  tokens  of  a  lieavenly  birth. 
To  us  he  is  full  of  grace  and  truth,  the  very  brightness  of 
the  Father's  glory  and  the  express  image  of  his  person. 
And  we  receive  him  as  the  Divine  Messias — the  God  in 
Christ  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself.  And  thus  it  is  in 
a  general  way,  that  we  have  found  him.  But  to  understand 
properl}'  the  precious  significance  there  is  in  this  finding  the 
Messias,  let  me  trace  the  fact  out  briefly  into  a  few  of  its 
details. 

There  are  times  in  which  our  views  of  Jesus,  the 
Savior,  have  been  peculiarly  distinct  epochs  in  our  history, 
when,  in  some  new  revelation,  we  have  seemed  to  find  him. 
Such  a  tiiue  is  that  when  a  sense  of  its  sins  has  been 
awakened  in  the  soul,  when  the  man  has  come  to  see  him- 
self in  the  hands  of  God's  law,  and  to  know  himself  to  be 
condemned  b}'  it  in  every  article,  and  to  feel  something  of 
the  terribleness  Jhere  is  in  the  curse  which  it  pronounces 
upon  the  guilty.  You  have  all  substantially  passed  through 
such  a  time,  my  lu'ethreu  After  slumbering,  perhaps,  for 
long  years,  in  strange  blindness  as  to  spiritual  things,  in- 
sensible to  the  rights  of  God,  and  to  your  own  obligations 
as  his  creatures,  you  have,  from  some  cause,  been  roused 
to  an  intelligent  apprehension  of  your  character  and  condi- 
tion. And  the  truth  has  flashed  upon  your  mind,  "I  am 
perishing  as  surely  as  there  is  a  God  and  a  judge!"  The 
foundations  of  3'our  former  peace  are  broken  up.  Your  sat- 
isfaction with  yourself  is  gone.  Your  relish  for  worldl}- 
things  is  gone.  Your  ability  to  beguile  yourself  of  your 
inward  distress  by  attention  to  outward  business  and 
pleasure  is  gone.  You  have  become  conscious  of  a  want, 
a  need  which  the  world  cannot  supply,   and  of  a  deadly  dis- 


294  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

ease  which  no  creature's  skill  or  power  can  cure.  To  re- 
main as  you  are  you  know  is  to  be  lost,  but  what  shall  you 
do  to  I)C  saved?  How  g-et  discliarged  from  tlie  condennia- 
tion  which  your  own  conscience  and  the  law  of  (loil  are 
perpetually  thundering  in  your  eai's?  Perhaps  you  try 
3'ourself  to  heal  up  the  breach  between  you  and  God,  labor- 
ing by  something  you  can  say,  as  excuse,  or  do,  as  merit, 
to  raise  a  footing  upon  which  you  may  be  able  to  stand 
before  God.  But  this  is  merely  to  deceive  yourself,  and 
you  are  now  too  much  awake,  too  sincere  and  earnest,  to 
consent  to  be  deceived.  You  feel  that  every  plea  you 
make  is  a  nullity,  and  every  struggle  throws  you  back  into 
despair.  At  this  juncture,  when  ever}'  device  of  your  own 
has  failed,  and  your  darkness  has  reached  its  climax,  cer- 
tain passages  in  the  Scriptures,  which  you  have  read  a 
thousand  times,  [)crhaps,  and  which,  as  matters  of  doctrine, 
are  as  familiar  to  you  as  your  alphabet,  begin  to  come  out 
from  the  sacred  page  with  unwonted  distinctness,  and  to 
glimmer  with  a  light,  and  to  fasten  themselves  with  a  new 
power  upon  your  heart.  One  sa3's,  "there»  is  now  no  con- 
demnation to  them  who  are  in  Christ  Jesus,"'  and  another, 
"God  so  loved  the  world  that  he  gave  his  only  begotton 
Son  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him  should  not  perish,  but 
have  everlasting  life;"  and  another  and  another  follow,  pre- 
senting different  terms  and  the  same  truth,  till*  the  Bible 
seems  to  be  all  full  of  it,  and  a  bright  blazing  revelation 
of  a  Savior  shines  before  you.  The  doctrine  taught  in 
these  passages,  as  I  have  said,  is  familiar,  and  has  been 
understood  by  you  intellectually,  all  your  lives,  but  now 
you  see  something  in  it  which  does  more  than  address  the 
intellect — something  which  invites  the  hope  and  trust  and 
love  of  the  heart.  You  see  in  it  a  life  and  a  power  and  a 
mighty  personality,  capable  of  being  an  active  helper  to 
you.      Emerging  from  the  doctrine  as  from  a  dissolving  en- 


FINDING    THE    MESSIAS.  295 

velope,  Jesus  stands  before  you.  You  see  him  now,  not  as 
an  abstraction,  an  idea,  but  as  a  real,  present  Deliverer,  and 
he  speaks  to  you,  and  touches  you,  and  takes  your  guilt 
from  you,  and  lifts  you  from  the  despair,  into  which  you  had 
sunk,  and  says,  "be  of  good  cheer,  I  have  redeemed  thee. 
Believe  only,  and  thou  shalt  live  forever."  And  you 
do  believe.  Your  whole  soul  goes  out  in  trust,  in  this  liv- 
ing Savior.  And  as  you  trust  your  sense  of  danger  de- 
parts, and  in  Christ  Jesus  you  rest,  as  securely  as  the  in- 
fant in  its  mother's  arms.  And  thus  you  have  found  the 
Messias!  The  Scriptures  have  been  the  field  and  he  has 
been  the  treasure  hid  within  it,  and  you  have  found  him, 
by  faith.  You  have  found  him,  as  "the  Lamb  of  God," 
to  take  away  your  sins,  and  as  "the  Lord  your  righteousness," 
to  procure  your  justification  at  the  bar  of  heaven.  Such  a 
discovery  all  true  Christians,  sometime  and  somehow,  have 
made.  It  may  not  have  been  a  sudden  discovery;  they 
ma}'  not  be  able  to  say  when,  precisely,  it  has  been  made, 
so  gradually  has  the  object  opened  upon  the  sight — but 
without  exception,  the  fact  has  occurred,  that  such  a  dis- 
covery has  been  made.  And  it  is  a  discovery  which  in- 
volves in  it  a  change  from  death  to  life. 

This  may  be  said  to  l)e  the  first  finding  of  the  Mes- 
sias which  occurs  in  the  Christian  history,  but  there  are 
others  which  follow  it.  You  have  sometimes  felt  your- 
selves, my  brethren,  on  the  point  of  surrendering  your  fidel- 
ity to  God.  Temptations  have  beset  your  soul  with  unusual 
violence,  and  through  carelessness  or  sloth,  they  have  found 
you  oft'  your  guard.  And  while  you  parley  with  them,  the 
arguments  which  conscience  urges  to  keep  you  from  yield- 
ing, grow  weaker  and  weaker,  and  the  sinful  thing  pro- 
posed to  you,  presses  its  claims,  with  more  and  more 
plausibility,  until  the  result  seems  inevitai^le,  that  your 
feet    must    slide.        Or    your    minds,    through    a    neglect    of 


296  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

the  proper  precautions,  have  been  suffered  to  fall  into  a 
distrustful  and  disaffected  state  towai'ds  God,  so  that  3'ou 
question  his  faithfulness  to  his  promises.  You  doubt  his 
love;  you  say  it  is  a  vain  thing  to  serve  hiiu,  and  you  are 
almost  ready  to  throw  yourself  into  the  labyrinth  of  scepti- 
cism or  the  abyss  of  unbelief.  Or  you  have  found  that 
the  law  of  Christian  consistency  has  imposed  upon  you 
duties  which  have  intimidated  your  weak  spirit.  This  cross 
is  too  heavy,  or  this  mountain  too  higli,  or  this  barrier  too 
strong,  you  have  said,  and  you  have  stood  trembling  in  the 
way,  where  the}'  have  met  you,  until  you  have  almost  con- 
cluded that  the  terms  of  discipleship  were  too  severe,  and 
your  treacherous  heart  has  half  entertained  the  thought 
of  quitting  the  self-denying  road  to  heaven.  You  have,  in 
all  such  cases,  felt  yourself  quivering  on  the  verge  of  apos- 
tacy.  You  are  like  the  man  who  has  thoughtlessly  suffered 
himself  to  be  caught  by  a  current  that  tlows  over  a  cata- 
ract. Roused  suddenly  to  an  intelligent  apprehension  of  his 
position,  he  finds  himself  plunging  towards  the  brink,  and, 
paralyzed  by  the  discover}',  he  feels  himself  powerless  in 
himself  and  infallibl}'  doomed  to  destruction  unless  a  helper 
shall  come  to  his  relief.  A  moment's  delay  may  seal  his 
ruin.  Just  such  is  your  condition,  and  in  just  such  a  crisis, 
planting  himself  in  the  midst  of  this  on-rushing  army  of 
temptations  and  doubts  and  discouragements,  Jesus  appears 
to  you,  as  he  once  appeared  amidst  the  tumult  of  the 
winds  and  waves  when  the  disciples  wei'e  about  to  perish 
on  the  sea  of  Galilee,  and  at  his  presence  an  instant  re-ac- 
tion in  your  mind  occurs.  There  is  a  spontaneous  cleaving 
of  the  soul  to  him,  and  the  heart  that  was  just  meditating 
the  fatal  step  that  w'ould  have  separated  it  from  God, 
now  kindles  with  all  its  first  love,  and  breaks  from  the 
grasp  of  its  betrayers  to  find  safety  and  assurance  and 
strength  in  reposing  upon  Christ.      \"ou  found  the  Deliverer 


FINDING    TFIE    MESSIAS.  297 

wbom  you  needed  in  that  hour  of  danger.  His  timel}'  in- 
terposition brongbt  witli  it  the  light  and  demonstration  and 
love,  that  exposed  your  tempters  in  their  true  guise  and 
dissipated  your  doubts  and  filled  you  with  power  and 
courage  to  brave  your  hardest  duties  and  keenest  trials. 
And  so  you  were  saved,  and  you  have  again  to  record  how, 
in  a  moment  of  peril,   you  found  the  Messias. 

And  akin  to  these,  are  those  seasons  of  sorrow  through 
which  you  have  passed.  It  has  not  been  these  traitorous 
tendencies  to  renounce  your  loj'alty  to  God  which  you  have 
been  exposed  to  at  such  seasons,  so  much  as  it  has  been  the 
disposition  to  sink  down  into  a  mute,  motionless  apathy;  a 
blank  imbecility;  a  deathlike  oblivion  of  all  in  the  present 
life  that  could  engage  your  interest  or  incite  you  to  exer- 
tion or  divert  3^ou  from  your  woe.  You  have,  most  of  you, 
known  times,  w^ien  such  a  disposition  has  been  the  predom- 
inant one  in  your  hearts.  When  the  charm  of  life  had 
fled;  when  all  beauty  had  faded  from  the  sky;  when  exist- 
ence had  become  a  burden,  and  but  one  spot  drew  to  it  a 
plea.sant  longing,  and  that  spot  was,  the  grave.  You  were 
a  mourner,  bereaved  of  one  whose  presence  had  been  the 
joy  of  your  being,  or  weeping  like  Rachel  for  the  children 
that  were  not,  and  you  walked  through  a  desolate  world, 
with  your  form  robed  in  sackcloth  and  with  ashes  on  your 
head.  Human  friends  poured  their  consolations  into  your  ears, 
but  the  heart  within  you  was  stone,  and  their  words  could 
not  (juicken  it.  Your  soul  was  with  the  lost  one,  and  hu- 
man friends  had  no  power  to  draw  it  from  the  sepulchre. 
But  in  this  dreary  wilderness  where  you  were  wandering, 
Jesus  met  3-ou,  and  like  Martha  and  Mary,  when  they  heard 
that  the  Master  had  come,  j-ou  rushed  instinctively  to  his 
feet,  and  his  kind  voice  broke  the  gloomy  spell  1)y  which 
you  were  bound;  and  when  he  said  to  you,  "beloved  think 
it    not   strange     concerning    this    fiery     trial    that    has    tried 


298  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

you,"  you  saw  that  it  was  no  strange  thing  that  had 
happened  unto  yon,  and  when  he  reminded  you,  "the 
cup  that  my  Father  gave  me  did  I  not  drink  it,"  you 
found  that  it  was  possible  even  for  3'ou  to  drink  a  bitter 
cup  from  your  Father's  hand ;  and  when  he  bade  you — cease 
mourning  for  the  dead's  sake,  and  go  and  be  cheerful  and 
useful  and  hoi}'  for  his  sake,  you  could  not  deny  him,  but 
wiped  away  your  tears,  and  came  back  with  a  tranquilized 
spirit  to  the  scene  of  your  duties.  And  as  often  as  in 
after  years,  you  have  recalled  those  days  of  sorrow,  you 
have  had  to  confess,    "there  I  found  the  Messias!" 

These  illustrations  may  suffice  to  explain  how  it  is  that 
this  fact,  which  I  have  alleged  to  be  the  peculiar  privilege 
of  Christians,  exhibits  itself  and  repeats  itself,  continually, 
through  the  course  of  his  historj'.  And  we  know  that  this 
same  fact  will  characterize  his  experience  to  the  end.  In 
that  great  crisis  even  when  everything  else,  which  man 
values,  must  be  resigned  and  lost,  I  mean  death,  only,  a 
new  and  perhaps,  the  best  and  truest  discovery  of  the  Mes- 
sias  will  be  made.  It  was  so  with  Stephen  when  he  died, 
for  the  very  heavens  were  opened  to  show  him  Jesus,  stand- 
ing at  the  right  hand  of  God ;  and  David  anticipated  that 
it  would  be  so  when  he  should  die,  for  he  declared, 
"though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  thou  art  with  me,  thy  rod  and  thy 
staff  they  comfort  me. " 

But  how  imperfect  must  be  all  prior  discoveries  of  this 
kind,  to  that  which  awaits  the  Saint,  as  he  enters  heaven! 
There  "we  shall  see  him  as  he  is,"  writes  the  Apostle,  and 
in  the  assurance  of  this,  he  declares  it  to  be  his  desire  to 
depart  and  be  with  Christ.  Here,  it  is  by  faith  after  all, 
and  through  a  glass,  darkly,  that  we  get  our  interviews 
with  the  Lord;  but  in  heaven,  it  will  be  face  to  face.  And 
then,   when  every  impediment    and  film  that  clouds  our  vis- 


FINDING    THE    MESSIAS.  299 

ion  uow,  is  gone  forever,  then,  as  never  before,  we  shall 
know  the  precious  meaning  of  the  phrase,  we  have  found 
the  Mossias. 

But,  while  we  await  this  final  discovery,  let  us  gladly 
avail  ourselves,  brethren,  of  every  means  by  which  we  may 
be  brought  into  communion  with  Christ.  As  he  has  com- 
manded us  to  "abide  in  him,"  it  becomes  us  to  seek  him 
by  a  continual  process.  And  so  manifold  are  our  needs 
and  so  all-sufficient  his  ability  to  supply  them,  that  we  may 
be  sure  we  shall  never  find  him  without  finding  a  blessing. 
Some  of  his  disciples  found  him  once,  in  the  breaking  of 
bread,  and  so  we  want  to  find  him  to  day,  to  know  him 
and  see  him  and  to  appropriate  him  as  our  Messias,  in  the 
materials  of  that  sacramental  feast,  which  we  are  to  cele- 
brate in  remembrance  of  him.  I  trust  we  shall  not  be  dis- 
appointed. If  we  seek,  we  have  his  promise  that  we  shall 
find;  and  if,  with  hearts  prepared  by  faith  and  love,  we 
come  to  his  table  and  study  anew  through  the  teachings  of 
its  simple  emblems  the  great  mystery  of  our  redemption,  it 
may  be  the  privilege  of  us  all  to  record  as  our  happ}^  ex- 
perience that   "we  have  found  the  Messias!'' 


ENDURINGNESS   OF    GOD'S    MERCY, 

JANUARY   6,  1861. 


'For  His  luercv  eudureth  forever." — Psalm  130:1. 


THIS  inspiring  refrain,  which  closes  each  verse  of  this 
Psahu,    may  be  regarded,   from   this  fact,   and  from  its 

recurrence  frequently  in  other  places  in  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, as  a  sort  of  national  motto  among  the  Israelites.  It 
was  a  legend  emblazoned  on  their  banners,-  expressive,  at 
the  same  time,  of  the  faith  and  the  gratitude  of  the  pious 
Jew.  It  enunciates  one  of  the  precious  truths  of  revelation, 
which  had  been  placed  in  the  custody  of  God's  ancient  peo- 
ple, and  which  still  forms  a  part  of  the  heritage  of  his 
church.  It  includes  the  twofold  idea  of  Mercy,  as  an  at- 
tribute of  God,  and  of  his  possessing  it  in  an  inexhaustible 
degree.  This  latter  fact  is  to  be  emphasized.  It  consti- 
tutes the  completing  element  in  all  good  thhigs.  It  is  the 
golden  clasp  or  circlet  which  holds  in  their  place  a  cluster 
of  gems.  It  assures  us,  not  only  that  mere}'  belongs  to 
God,  but  that  it  belongs  to  him  inseparabl}',  and  without 
variableness  or  exhaustion. 

The  everlasting  enduringness  of  God's  mercy  is,  there- 
fore, the  theme  which  is  set  before  us  Other  attributes  of 
God  are  said  to  possess  the  same  quality  (as  his  righteous- 
ness, and  truth),  but  the  nature  of  the  (quality,  as  it  exists 
in  these  other  attributes,  is  altogether  different,  so  far  as 
man  is  concerned,  from  that  which  belongs  to  it,  in  the 
case  of  mercy.     For  mercy  is  the  part  or  side  of  Deity,   so 

300 


ENDURING  NESS    OF    OOD's    MERCY.  301 

to  speak,  through  which  alone  man  can  hold  contact  and 
comiuunicalion  with  God.  Mercy  is  the  only  point  at  whicli 
man  can  gain  access  to  Him,  and  draw  benefit  from  all  his 
other  attributes.  Take  aw.oy  his  mercy  and  the  nature  of 
God,  .so  far  as  man  is  concerned,  becomes  a  high  and 
an  unapproachable  castle,  entrenched  in  impregnable  ram- 
parts, and  barred  at  every  portal.  But  let  mercy  be  re- 
vealed, and  that  castle  becomes  an  open  refuge,  to  which 
man  may  resort,  and  within  whose  walls  he  maj'  find  safety; 
and  let  that  mercy  be  proclaimed,  as  in  the  text,  to  be  an 
everlasting  mercy,  and  then  this  castle  becomes  not  only  an 
open  and  a  safe,  but  an  imperishaV)le  and  indestructable, 
refuge— a  dwelling-place  for  the  people  of  God  in  all  gen- 
erations— a  shelter  that  shall  never  fail,  being  destined  to 
survive  both  the  waste  of  ages  and  the  dissolution  of 
nature.  This  grand  and  inspiring  truth  I  propose  for  your 
consideration  to-day.  There  is  infinite  comfort  in  it.  It 
comes  to  us  like  the  angels'  song,  to  the  shepherds  at  Beth- 
lehem; or  like  the  notes  of  a  silver  bell  ringing  out  sweetly 
over  the  clang  and  tumult  of  the  world. 

The  watcher  of  the  heavens  at  night  will  soon  have 
discovered  that  the  vast  concourse  of  stars  that  stud  the 
firmament,  are  in  motion.  One  after  another  of  these  shin- 
ing points,  and  clusters,  will  drop  towards  the  Western 
horizon,  and  disappear  from  view,  while  others  climbing 
their  wslj  up  the  concave  from  the  East,  will  follow  their 
predecessors  in  their  ceaseless  revolution.  But  in  this  gen- 
eral change,  one  tranquil  orb  will  retain  its  position.  The 
pole-star  knows  no  variation.  There  it  stands  forever,  the 
immovable  sentinel,  guarding  the  spot,  where  the  axis  of 
the  celestial  globe  is  forever  turning.  And  like  this  in  its 
imraobilitv,  is  the  mysterious  little  instrument  which,  at 
whatever  spot  on  earth  you  place  it,  points  to  the  pole-star. 
Guided  by  the  uiierring  indications  of   the  magnetic  needle. 


302  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

the  pilot  will  track  his  way  over  the  world,  treading  its 
channels  and  its  seas,  and  touching  at  its  harbors  with  the 
precision  with  which  he  would  have  gone  through  the 
streets  and  allies  of  his  native  town,  and  called  at  the 
doors  of  his  familiar  friends.  Amidst  the  ever-varying  in- 
cidents of  a  voyage,  in  calm  or  in  storm,  in  darkness  or  in 
.light,  in  every  change  of  climate  or  atmosphere,  under 
every  parallel  of  latitude  and  longitude — there  stands  the 
faithful  monitor,  forever  instinct  with  its  strange  intelli- 
gence, unwavering,  unceasing  in  its  ministry;  and  there  it 
will  stand,  true  to  its  trust,  till  the  last  plank  is  torn  from 
beneath  it,  and  it  goes  down  with  the  foundering  hulk  to 
the  caverns  of  the  deep.  Like  these  everlasting  things  is 
the  mercy  of  God,  in  this  changeful  world  of  ours.  The 
affairs  of  the  world  are  ever  shifting,  and  ever  moving,  like 
the  ever  rolling  orbs  of  the  sky;  and  the  incidents  in  the 
life  of  each  individual,  are  undergoing  perpetual  mutations, 
like  those  which  attend  the  ship  at  sea;  but,  amidst  all 
these  revolutions  and  vicissitudes,  the  mercy  of  God,  firm  as 
the  pole-star,  and  steady  as  the  mariner's  needle,  "endureth 
forever."  How  pleased  to  find  perpetuity  just  here!  The 
language  of  human  history  is  that  all  things  are  subject  to 
change  and  decay.  The  clouds  above  us  are  not  more  in- 
constant than  the  scenes  and  objects  around  us.  No  year 
leaves  us,  at  its  close,  in  the  position  in  which  it  found  us, 
at  its  opening.  Childhood  is  springing  up  into  manhood, 
manhood  is  striding  on  to  old  age,  and  old  age  is  creeping 
downward  to  the  tomb.  The  wheel  of  fortune,  as  we  call 
it,  or  the  cycle  of  Providence,  as  it  would  be  better  named, 
is  forever  rolling  round,  and,  in  its  restless  rotation  chang- 
ing the  place  and  the  condition  of  everything.  The  high 
of  to-day  are  the  low  of  to-morrow;  and  the  low  of  to-day, 
the  high  of  to-morrow.  The  strong  become  the  weak,  and 
the  weak    the    strong.      The    poor    grow    rich,   and    the  rich 


ENDURINGNESS    OP    GOD'S    MERCY.  303 

lapse  into  poverty.  Friends  wax  cold  towards  each  other. 
The  ivy  on  the  grave  stone  succeeds  the  garland  on  the 
nuptial  altar.  Love,  that  yearned  in  rapture  over  the  first 
horn's  cradle,  is  turned  into  heart-broken  anguish  as  it  lays 
its  treasure  in  the  infant's  grave.  The  track  of  time  is 
crowded  with  sepulchral  monuments.  It  is  like  the  passage 
through  which  the  traveler  enters  Pompeii,  the  city  of  the 
dead,  a  street  of  tombs.  Nations  become  extinct,  and 
strangers,  after  a  thousand  years,  dig  up  their  relics.  Dy- 
nasties rise  and  fall.  Customs,  languages,  religions,  waste 
away  and  disappear.  The  present  is  built  upon  the  ruins 
of  the  past;  and  the  future  shall  be  built  upon  the  ruins 
of  the  present.  Now,  in  contrast  with  these  dirge-like  notes 
of  history,  how  pleasant  to  hear  the  jubilant  tones  of  reve- 
lation proclaiming,  "the  mei'cy  of  God  endureth  forever!" 
Amidst  these  tablets  in  the  great  cemetery  of  time,  carved 
each  with  a  broken  rose-branch,  or  the  reversed  torch — 
emblems  of  decay  and  extinction — how  pleasant  to  see  this 
heaven-wrought  column  rearing  itself,  radiant  in  its  purity, 
bearing  all  over  it  the  tracery  of  the  immortal  amaranth, 
and  lifting  from  its  top  the  image  of  an  undying  flame! 
This  object  shall  be  my  theme  to-day;  and  the  few  thoughts 
that  we  can  give  to  it,  and  lessons  we  may  learn  from  it, 
will  not  be,  I  trust,  without  solace  and  profit  to  some  of 
you. 

"His  mercy  endureth  forever."'  We  will  take  the  word 
mercy,  in  its  widest  and  most  obvious  sense,  as  meaning 
the  Divine  good-will,  or  benevolence  in  every  form ;  and  the 
thing  affirmed  of  it,  is,  that  it  is  never  suspended,  never 
interrupted,  never  exhausted.  Then,  we  are  authorized  to 
say,  it  has  attended  us  through  life,  thus  far,  and  will  at- 
tend us  to  the  end.  The  forever,  of  the  text,  includes  in 
it,  of  course,  th:  t  portion  of  t'mc  which  has  been  occupied 
with  the  existence  of  each  one  of  us.     It  involves  the  idea, 


304  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

that  the  mere}'  of  God  has  been  concerned  in  ordering  our 
lot,  thus  far,  in  the  progress  of  life.  The  mercy  of  God 
did  not  cease  when  you  and  I  were  born.  It  smiled  upon 
us  when  we  first  opened  our  eyes  lo  the  light,  and  it  has 
continued  to  smile  upon  us  from  that  hour  to  this.  Our 
existence  is  evidence  of  this  fact.  Let  any  one  of  you, 
from  the  youngest  to  the  oldest,  take  into  view  his  age, 
and  then  consider  the  countless  conditions  of  every  kind, 
that  have  had  to  be  provided  for,  and  satisfied  in  all  his 
previous  lifetime,  in  order  that  such  a  result  as  this,  that 
he  should  be  found  seated  in  such  circumstances  as  you 
are  in,  in  this  house  of  Gfod  this  morning,  should  be 
brought  about,  and  then  say,  if  anything  but  the  care,  the 
supervision  and  the  power  of  a  Divine  Benefactor  could 
have  brought  about  such  a  result?  Who  can  say  that  you 
will  be  here,  as  comfortable  and  as  happ}'  as  you  ai'e  to- 
day, a  year  hence?  No  one  dare  answer.  And  why?  Ah, 
we  know  that  that  event  depends  upon  a  thousand  contin- 
gencies, which  we  can  neither  foresee  nor  control.  If  this 
event  does  happen,  it  will  be  because  someone,  wiser  and 
more  efficient  than  we,  has  directed  our  steps.  It  will  be 
because  the  mere}'  of  God  has  continued  to  spread  over  us 
its  guardian  wing,  and  lend  to  us  its  helping  hand.  And 
what  will  be  needed  to  bring  us  to  any  point  which  we 
may  set  before  us  in  the  future,  has  been  needed  to  bring 
us  to  any  point  that  we  have  reached  in  the  past,  or  present. 
You  are  here  to-day,  because,  the  mere}"  of  God,  which  angel- 
like led  3'ou  to  your  mother's  knee,  to  bend  in  childhood's 
prayer,  has  followed  you  through  all  the  intervening  space, 
and  brought  you,  this  morning,  a  man  or  a  woman  it  may  be 
of  forty  or  fifty  or  three  score  years,  to  bend  as  a  worshipper 
in  Jehovah's  sanctuary.  In  the  chain  of  Providential  blessings, 
which  has  run  parallel  with  the  chain  of  your  life,  and 
which  is    proved    to    be    in    existence    still    by    the    shining 


ENDURINGNESS    OF    GOD's    MERCY.  305 

liuks,    tthich   tliis  very  day's  privileges  exhibit,    I   would   tiud 
one  token  of   the    enduringness  of  the   mercy    of  God. 

But  this  may  be  regarded  as  a  too  limited  view  of  the 
matter,  as  an  argument  drawn  from  facts,  which  might  be 
exceptional  in  the  case  of  the  favored  few,  aud  not  univer- 
sal. Consider,  then,  these  features  in  Providence  which  do 
certainly  belong  to  the  genend  spirit  and  administration  of 
it.  First,  that  the  nature  of  man  is  such,  and  the  relation 
of  external  things  to  this  nature  is  such,  that  enjoyment  is 
capable  of  being  found  under  almost  all  conceivable  circum- 
stances. You  may  change  the  position  of  an  individual,  to 
an  indefinite  degree,  and  it  may  be  found  upon  a  fair  ex- 
amination that  you  have  not  altered  the  amount  of  his  hap- 
piness one  iota.  Kich  men  have  been  plunged  into  a  state 
of  poverty,  and  have  found,  to  their  surprise,  after  the 
confusion  of  the  first  shock  was  over,  that  there  was  as 
much  peace  ami  serenity  in  their  hearts,  as  they  have  ever 
known  in  the  days  of  their  abundance.  I  have  seen  an  in- 
valid, or  a  cripple,  manifest  a  degree  of  cheerfulness,  in 
the  chamber  to  which  he  was  hopelessly  confined,  to  which 
few  healthy  persons  on  the  street  could  lay  claim.  The  ex- 
planation of  such  facts  is  that  happiness  is  not  so  much 
the  result  of  outward  circumstances  as  we  suppose.  The 
mechanism  which  produces  it,  the  alchemy  which  makes  the 
gold  of  life,  lies  within  the  man  himself,  not  in  the  world 
outside  of  him.  One  man  will  draw  i)leasure,  from  a  pur- 
suit or  an  object,  which  would  be  a  perfect  eye-sore  and 
torture  to  another.  Nay,  the  same  man  will  learn  to  en- 
joy, that  which  at  a  former  period  of  his  life  he  would  have 
loathed.  The  reason  is,  that  the  taste  and  capacity  for  en- 
joyment is  different  in  different  individuals,  or  different  at 
different  times,  in  the  same  individual.  Now,  this  is  an 
arrangement  of  God,  the  architect  of  the  soul,  and  of  the 
scene  in  which  the  soul  is  at  present  called  to  act,   and  the 


306  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

effect  of  it,  is  obviously,  if  men  will  not  wilfully  prevent 
it,  to  make  happiness  independent  of  external  circumstances, 
to  keep  the  current  of  Divine  Mere}'  running  along  the 
track  of  a  man's  life,  without  material  change  or  diminu- 
tion, no  matter  whether  that  track  leads  through  the  dark 
places  or  the  bright  ones,  the  high  grounds  or  the  low  ones, 
of  earth.  The  thirsty  spirit,  if  it  will  only  look  within  and 
not  without  for  the  fountain,  may  fill  its  cup  and  quaff  the 
water  of  joy,  in  every  possible  position.  I  know  that  it 
takes  the  rod  of  Christian  faith  sometimes,  to  bring  the 
supply,  as  it  did  in  the  case  of  the  Israelites,  for  the  desert 
contains  no  springs,  and  the  rock  will  not  open  its  treas- 
ures,  of  its  own  accord;  but  if  men  will  not  use  the  rod  of 
Christian  faith,  which  can  bring  the  water  from  the  rock, 
this  is  their  folly  and  their  fault.  It  does  not  alter  the 
fact  that  the  water  is  there,  and  that  God  has  made  it  ac- 
cessible to  all  right-minded  seekers.  His  mercy  endures, 
though  men  in  their  infatuation  refuse  to  apply  to  it,  and 
choose  to  suffer  where  they  might  rejoice. 

Then,  another  feature  to  be  noticed  in  Providence  is 
that  forms  of  pleasure  are  to  be  found  in  the  world,  adapted 
to  the  wants  of  man's  nature,  in  all  the  successive  phases 
of  its  development.  No  stage  of  life  can  be  found,  that 
does  not  have  its  appropriate  allotment  of  joys.  Childhood, 
youth,  manhood  and  old  age  have  reached  their  peculiar 
sources  of  happmess.  The  opening  tlower  and  the  swelling 
bud,  the  hum  of  the  bee  and  the  song  of  the  bird,  which 
make  the  springtime  so  beautiful,  disappear,  as  the  sum- 
mer's heat  comes  on.  But  nature  replaces  them  with  other 
gifts.  x\nd  so  when  these  are  exhausted,  the  autumn  has 
its  harvests  to  be  garnered;  and,  when  these  are  all  reaped, 
and  the  wmter's  frost  has  chilled  the  air  and  blighted  the 
earth,  there  is  still  the  warmth  of  the  fireside,  and  the 
glow  of  family  intercourse,   to  make  the  sunshine  of  the  in- 


ENDURINGNESS    OF    GOD'S    MERCY.  307 

door  world  counteract  tlie  gloom  of  the  outdoor  one.  And 
so  in  life,  God's  mercy  has  provided  for  the  old  man  as 
well  as  the  child,  and,  the  purest,  serenest  pictures  of  hap- 
piness I  have  ever  seen  on  earth,  I  think,  have  been  found 
amongst  the  aged.  Outlasting  their  generation,  it  may  be, 
and  almost  everything  else  familiar  in  the  world,  there  they 
stand,  like  the  last  solitary  column  of  some  spacious  tem- 
ple, which  time  and  violence  have  crumbled  to  dust;  and, 
it  might  be  thought,  that  their  sense  of  loneliness,  as  the 
crowd  of  strangers  that  know  them  not,  rushes  by  them, 
would  be  absolutely  overwhelming;  but,  no,  they  are  not 
alone;  one  thing  endures  which  belonged  to  other  days, 
one  thing,  which  has  gone  with  them  through  their  long 
pilgrimage,  one  thing  which  has  survived  the  death  of  kin- 
dred, the  changes  of  fortune  and  the  revolutions  of  society, 
one  friend  stands  by  them  yet,  and  that  is  the  mercy  of 
God.  Inexhaustible  in  its  resources,  that  can  keep  the  coal 
glowing  in  the  embers  of  life,  that  can  make  the  fountain 
bubble  up  on  the  strand  of  time,  that  can  make  the  tree 
bring  forth  fruit  in  old  age,  that  can  make  the  solitude  of 
night  bright  with  stars  and  vocal  with  melodies  of  heaven. 
Adapting  its  provisions,  thus,  to  the  wants  of  man,  under 
all  stages  of  his  experience,  the  mercy  of  the  Lord  ma}^  be 
said  to  endure  forever.  These  features  in  the  providence 
of  God,  I  conceive,  warrant  the  Psalmist  fully,  in  announcing 
the  doctrine  of  the  text. 

And  now,  as  a  second  view  of  the  subject,  I  remark, 
that  'this  enduringncss  of  the  Divine  Mercy  appears  in  the 
perpetual  recurrence  of  the  tokens  of  it,  after  temporary 
and  occasional  seasons  of  suspension  or  obscuration.  It 
sometimes  does,  to  our  eyes,  seem  to  disappear.  There  are 
periods  in  life  so  dark,  that  the  poor  oppressed  spirit  loses 
the  power,  and  even  the  disposition,  to  look  for  light;  and 
the  grave,   probably,   presents  itself  as  the  only  place  of  es- 


308  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

cape  from  the  crusbing  incubus  of  sorrow.  Many  of  you 
have  passed  through  such  periods.  When  you  "were  in  them, 
you  saw  no  end  to  them.  But  there  was  an  end  to  them. 
The  morning  broke  again,  upon  the  horror  of  the  night. 
Like  the  stream  that  has  wandered  into  the  cavern's  mouth 
and  fallen  into  a  subterranean  channel,  and  so  flows  on  un- 
seen for  miles  until  some  change  in  the  level  of  the  soil, 
and  some  o[)ening  in  the  rocks,  lets  it  out  to  daylight 
again,  the  mercy  of  God,  that  for  a  small  moment  forsook, 
or  seemed  to  forsake  you,  has  leaped  up  again  from  the 
ground,  beside  your  path,  and  niade  the  scene  all  verdant 
and  cheerful  again.  You  thought  it  had  vanished  like 
ever3'thing  else,  in  which  you  had  confided;  but  you  were 
mistaken.  It  endureth  forever.  One  of  the  peculiarities 
of  that  grandest  of  all  mountain-peaks,  Mt.  Blanc,  "the 
monarch  of  the  Ali)s,"  is  that  from  its  altitude,  and  from 
the  whiteness  of  its  eternal  draper}'  of  snow,  it  may  be 
seen,  on  a  clear  day,  from  almost  any  point  of  the  compass 
within  a  radius  of  fifty  miles,  and  when  seen  it  always  ap- 
pears near.  When  the  visitor  leaves  it,  it  seems  as  if  it 
pursues  him.  It  will  not  consent  to  be  left  behind.  You 
may  ride  for  a  day,  putting  league  upon  league  between 
you  and  it,  au<l  yet,  look  back  when  you  will,  there,  prob- 
ably, it  will  stand,  with  its  vestal  bosom  upon  the  sky, 
looking  as  if  it  were  bending  over  you.  You  pass  around 
some  rock}^  ridge,  and  you  miss  it,  and  say  to  yourself, 
"now,  at  last,  it  has  gone;"  but,  anon,  you  make  another 
turn,  and  gazing  out  upon  the  scene,  there  it  stands  again, 
in  all  its  glory,  with  its  fleecy  slopes  all  defined,  and  its 
snow- crowned  summit  piercing  the  clouds.  And  that  is  like 
the  mercy  of  God.  It  will  not  leave  you.  It  disappears 
only  to  reappear.  You  say  farewell  to  it,  and  droop  your 
head  in  sorrow^,  but  you  lift  your  eyes,  and  there  it  is 
again  as  bright  and  beneficent  as  ever.       Y^'ou  lose  it  as  the 


ENDURINGNESS    OF    GOD'S    MERCY.  309 

tall  cliff  shoots  up  along  your  roadside,  or  the  close  ravine 
hides  yon  in  its  gorge;  but  be  patient,  till  your  winding 
path  mounts  over  the  cliff  or  through  the  ravine,  and  you 
shall  see  it  again  hovering  over  you  with  its  earthly  beaut}', 
and  breathing  its  benedictions  upon  your  onward  way.  So 
it  came  back  to  Jacob,  so  it  came  back  to  Job,  so  it  came 
back  to  Elijah,  so  it  has  come  back  to  God's  children, 
great  and  small,  in  every  age,  all  the  world  over,  for  it 
endureth  forever. 

But,  be3-ond  this  fact,  that  the  mercy  of  God  exhibits 
this  law  of  Incurrence,  it  deserves  to  be  noticed  that  even 
in  those  passages  of  life,  where  the  continuity  of  it  seems 
to  be  broken,  the  interruption  is  apparent,  rather  than  real. 
If  God  afflicts,  he  himself  tells  us  that  he  does  not  do  so 
willingly.  The  motive  that  constrains  him  to  do  so,  is  that 
he  may  do  good,  and  the  importance  of  the  end  more  than, 
compensates  for  the  painfulness  of  the  means.  The  suffer- 
ing which  has  overtaken  3'ou,  may  be  the  instrument,  and 
the  onl}'  effectual  one,  of  keeping  you  from  a  worse  and  an 
incurable  form  of  suffering,  towards  which  you  are  hasten- 
ing. Or,  the  chastisement  that  has  arrested  and  humbled 
you,  may  teach  you  the  depravity  of  your  heart,  and  the 
waywardness  of  your  conduct,  and  bring  you  out  of  your 
bondage  to  sin  and  convert  you  into  a  loyal  servant  of 
God.  Or,  your  troubles  and  sorrows  may  be  the  means  of 
helping  others  to  virtue  and  happiness.  l*iety,  upholding 
the  saint  under  calamities,  and  showing  its  divine  origin  by 
the  superhuman  grace  it  imparts  to  him,  may  strengthen 
the  faith  of  other  weak-hearted  believers,  or  ma}'  force  the 
the  distrust  of  unbelievers  to  give  way  before  its  convincing 
demonstrations.  Or,  vice,  suffering  its  retributive  pains,  if 
it  do  not  have  the  effect  to  reform  the  subject  of  them,  is 
nevertheless  a  spectacle  which  may  insure  the  salvation  of 
others.     The  wreck  on  the  rocks  may  warn  other  vessels  of 


310  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

the  dangerous  place.  The  transgressor,  in  his  degredation 
and  misery,  may  cause  the  minds  of  others,  liable  to  the 
same  sins,  to  learn  with  tirael}'  wisdom,  that  the  way  of 
the  transgressor  is  hard.  In  short,  admitting  the  impossi- 
bility of  showing  how  the  silver  thread  of  mercy  runs 
through  every  particular  case  of  human  sorrow,  we  may 
safely  affirm  the  general  proposition,  that  the  effect  of  sor- 
row in  the  world  is  largely  to  subserve  the  best  interests  of 
the  world;  and  that  constituted  as  man  is,  were  it  not  for 
the  offices  of  sorrow,  his  lot  on  earth  would  exhibit  far 
fewer  traces  of  the  Divine  Mercy  than  it  now  does,  so  that 
in  the  very  face  of  those  things  which  seem  to  contradict 
it,  we  may  still  proclaim  the  doctrine,  "his  mercy  endureth 
forever."' 

A  third  point,  intimated  in  the  text,  is  that  the  mercy 
of  God  is  maintained  in  exercise,  notwithstanding  numerous 
obstructions  to  its  exercise,  which  are  erected  by  man  him- 
self. In  no  sense  does  the  enduringness  of  it  come  out  to 
view  more  strikingly,  probably,  than  in  this,  that  in  spite 
of  all  man's  abuses  of  God's  mercy,  in  spite  of  his  pride 
and  willfulness,  his  I'ecklessness  and  presumption,  his  im- 
penitence and  unbelief,  God  is  merciful  to  him  still.  The 
current  must  be  very  deep,  and  the  tide  very  strong,  where 
the  stream  can  continue  to  flow  on,  over  such  accumulated 
and  powerful  barriers.  And  yet  it  does  flow  on,  year  after 
year,  over  the  sins  of  youth,  and  middle  age,  and  even, 
sometimes,  over  those  of  extreme  old  age;  for  sometimes  the 
mercy  of  God  is  seen  bearing  even  the  hoary  headed  sinner 
into  the  arms  of  Jesus,  and  landing  him  as  a  trophy  of 
grace  in  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  The  Apostle  Paul  makes 
use  of  this  view  of  the  mercy  of  God  to  expostulate  with 
the  Romans.  "Despisest  thou,"  he  says,  "the  riches  of 
his  goodness  and  forbearance  and  long  suffering,  not  know- 
ing that  the  goodness  of  God  leadeth  thee  to  repentance?"  and 


ENDURINGNESS    OF    OOT>'S    iMERCY.  311 

the  Apostle  Peter  sets  it  before  his  readers  in  tlie  same 
light.  "The  Lord  is  not  slack  concerning  his  promises," 
he  says,  "as  some  men  count  slackness,  but  is  long-suffer- 
ing to  us-ward,  not  willing  that  any  should  perish,  but  that 
all  should  come  to  repentance."  Here  is  an  inspired  com- 
mentary upon  the  text — God  waiting  to  be  gracious  to  care- 
less, trifling,  contemptuous  sinners;  God  exhibiting  forbear- 
ance and  long-sufl'ering  towards  hardened,  arrogant,  wicked 
men.  0,  surely  if  all  other  proof  were  wanting,  this  ought 
to  be  enough,  to  put  it  above  all  doubt  or  dispute,  that 
"the  mercy  of  God  endnreth  forever." 

But  the  scope  of  the  text  may  lead  us  to  still  higher 
ground.  We  ma}-^  take  the  word  forever  as  embracing  the 
lifetime  of  nations,  and  the  world  itself.  With  the  history 
of  the  ages  that  have  passed  over  our  earth,  and  the 
prophetic  programme  of  those  which  are  yet  to  pass  over  it, 
we  may  say,  giving  this  large  latitude  to  the  extent  of  it, 
his  mercy  endureth  forever.  Disasters  innumerable  we 
grant  have  attended  the  world's  progress.  Battlefields  have 
drenched  it  with  human  blood.  The  car  of  time  has  sone 
crushing  along  its  way,  demolishing  cities,  governments  and 
nations  in  its  march,  but  the  effect  of  this  fact,  ought  to 
be  to  convince  us,  that  there  are  deadly  elements  enough 
in  the  world,  to  have  destroyed  it  a  thousand  times  over, 
had  there  not  been  such  an  agent  as  the  mercy  of  God  at 
work  in  it,  restraining  and  guiding  these  elements  and 
overruling  their  operations  for  the  conservation  of  the  spe- 
cies, and  the  accomplishment  of  the  ends  for  which  the 
world  was  made.  The  mercy  of  God,  the  Bible  tells  us, 
had  a  verj'  special  work  to  do  in  this  world  of  ours.  It 
was  to  restore  a  revolted  race  to  loyalty  to  their  Lord. 
The  scheme  of  redemption  is  the  map  of  human  history. 
The  tissue  of  events  which  furnishes  the  matter  of  human 
history  is  attached  in  every  part  of  it  to    this    scheme,    and 


312  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

is  but  the  development  of  the  design  conceived  in  that 
scheme.  This  is  the  testimon}'  of  Revelation  on  the  sub- 
ject. This  is  the  clue  which  it  gives  us  to  the  labyrinth  of 
human  history.  All  things  from  the  beginning  have  been 
under  Divine  direction,  and  have  been  moving  on  towards 
the  consummation  contemplated  in  the  scheme  of  redeeming 
mercy.  The  great  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men  to  whose  sway 
all  minor  forces  have  been  obedient  is  that  power  of  gravi- 
tation by  which  the  world  is  to  be  drawn  to  the  kingdom 
of  Christ.  Mercy  set  that  power  to  work,  and  has  kept  it 
working  through  all  the  confusion  of  the  ages;  and  is  keep- 
ing it  working  still.  In  God's  own  way,  very  differently, 
certainly,  from  man's  way  (which  is  just  what  reason  would 
lead  us  to  expect),  the  world  has  been  rolling  on  towards 
the  point  set  before  it,  in  the  scheme  of  redemption.  Polit- 
ical events  have  been  the  slow  but  mighty  machinery  em- 
ployed in  clearing  a  highway  for  our  God.  Kings,  who 
knew  it  not,  were  the  agents  of  Inimanuel,  in  planting  the 
foundation  of  his  throne.  Philosophers,  legislators  and 
warriors  have  been  blindly  breaking  up  the  ground  that  was 
to  receive  the  seed,  and  bear  the  harvests  of  Christianit3^ 
True  civilization,  the  offspring  of  true  religion,  has  been 
extending  its  domain  over  the  earth,  embodying  in  its  be- 
nign institutions  the  spirit  of  Divine  Mercy.  And  its 
domain  is  destined  to  spread  as  the  outgrowth  of  Christ's 
spiritual  kingdom,  until,  like  that  kingdom,  it  achieves  its 
perfect  triumph  in  the  spectacle  of  a  world  redeemed  to 
God.  The  purpose  of  God  to  redeem  the  world  to  himself 
is  the  staple  of  all  human  history.  It  has  never  been  for- 
gotten or  abandoned;  and  it  never  will  be,  for  his  merey 
endureth  forever. 

And  now,  one  thought  more,  is  all  that  we  shall  have 
time  to  glance  at.  The  forever  of  the  text,  including  all 
time,  stretches    itself    beyond    the   bounds    of   time.      When 


EXDURIiVGNESS    OF    OOD's    MERCY.  313 

we  are  done  with  time  it  teacbes  us  we  are  not  done  with 
the  mere}'  of  God.  No  migbt}'  angel,  like  that  one  St. 
John  saw  in  the  Apocalypse  announcing  the  end  of  time, 
shall  ever  come  to  make  the  doleful  proclamation,  "the 
mere}'  of  the  Lord  shall  be  no  longer."  These  years  which 
have  so  mercifully  spared  us,  have  been  the  messengers  of 
doom  to  others.  All  over  the  world  they  dot  the  earth 
with  new-made  graves,  as  they  pass.  .  They  are  even  whis- 
pering to  us  as  they  glide  by,  "the  fashion  of  this  world 
passeth  away."'  They  show  us  the  rich  man  leaving  his 
wealtii,  the  king  resigning  his  crown,  the  wife  parting  from 
her  husband,  the  child  severed  from  its  parents.  The}'  re- 
mind us,  that  all  that  we  now  love  we  hold  by  a  transient 
tic,  and  that  soon,  stripped  of  all,  we  must  lie  down  in  the 
grave  naked  as  we  were  born  into  the  world.  But  blessed 
be  God,  there  is  one  thing  of  which  death  cannot  rob  us, 
one  thing  which  we  can  carry  with  us  when  we  launch 
from  the  shores  of  time,  and  that  is,  the  mercy  of  God. 
That  will  go  with  us  over  the  dark  abyss,  and  that  will 
find  for  us  a  home  in  the  fair  city,  the  bright  land  far 
away,  where  we  shall  behold  the  King  in  his  beauty.  The 
mercy  that  has  never  forsaken  the  poor  wanderer  on  earth, 
will  not  forsake  him  when  he  leaves  this  realm  of  vault}' 
and  sin,  but  has  prepared  for  him  a  heaven  of  endless  joy. 
And  there  its  blessed  work  is  to  be  completed  and  crowned. 
"Vessels  of  mercy"  is  the  term  which  the  Apostle  uses  to 
describe  the  redeemed  children  of  God,  while  on  earth, 
"vessels  of  mercy,  prepared  unto  glory;"  and  God  will  set 
them  at  last  amidst  his  glory,  as  ornaments  in  his  royal 
palace,  for  his  mercy  endureth  forever.  Its  ministry  is  to 
last  as  long  as  God  himself  lasts,  and  eternity  will  be  em- 
ployed in  unfolding  the  results  of  the  work  of  mercy  begun 
on  earth,  in  the  regeneration  and  sanctification  of  the  be- 
lieving   soul.      For    mercy,    be    it   ever    remembered,   has    no 


314  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

place  prepared  in  heaven  for  any  soul  that  has  not  been 
l)orn  into  the  kingdom  of  God,  here  on  earth.  Mercy  woukl 
cease  to  be  mercy,  were  she  to  cease  to  make  a  distinction 
between  the  friends  and  the  enemies  of  God.  Mercy  would 
forget  herself  did  she  not  bar  the  gates  of  glory  against 
those  who  have  used  life  in  rejecting  Christ,  and  refusing 
to  have  liim  reign  over  them.  Mercy  can  only  say  of  them, 
"let  them  go  to  their  own  place."  The  filthy  must  be 
filthy  still,  and  mercy  with  a  flaming  sword  guards  the  por- 
tals of  the  holy  cit}'  from  the  pollution  of  their  presence; 
for  is  it  not  written  b}'  mercj's  own  hand,  "there  shall  in 
nO  wise  enter  there  anything  that  defileth,  neither  whatso- 
ever worketh  abomination  or  maketh  a  lie,  but  they  which 
are  written  in  the  Lamb's  book  of  life."  And  so  even  in 
the  doom  of  the  lost,  no  less  than  in  the  eternal  blessed- 
ness of  the  righteous,  it  will  be  true  that  merey  endureth 
forever. 

And  now,  my  friends,  I  propose  this  text  to  you,  as  a 
sort  of  motto,  for  3'ou  to  take  with  you  into  the  unknown 
sequel  of  your  lives.  It  presents  to  j'ou  a  guide  and  com- 
forter, which  I  know  you  will  need.  The  mercy  of  the 
Lord,  unwasted  by  the  lapse  of  time,  u^l;minished  by  the 
drafts  which  have  been  made  upon  it  in  the  past,  oflfers  to 
you  in  all  their  efficacy  its  offices  and  its  blessings.  Ah, 
what  a  poor  boon  would  life  be  without  them!  And  yet 
how  terrible  an  alternative  would  death  be  without  them.  To 
enjoy  those  offices  and  blessings  in  their  true  sense  you  must 
seek  the  mercy  of  God.  as  it  is  offered  to  you  through  Jesus 
Christ.  It  is  the  mercy  of  the  covenant  that  you  need,  the 
mercy  which  flows  from  Calvary's  cross,  that  annuls  guilt, 
and  renews  the  heart,  and  reconciles  to  God,  and  gives  a 
title  to  heaven.  That  mercy,  may  you  all  find!  May  it  be 
your  support  in  life,  your  comfort  in  death,  and  your  sal- 
vation in  eternity. 


THE  PATRIARCH'S  RETROSPECT. 

NOVEMBER  4,  1849. 


"The  (tIocI  which  fed  me  all  my  life  long  unto  this  day,  the 
Angel  which  redeemed  me  from  all  evil." — Genesis  4H:15.1(). 


THERE  is  something  about  the  sayings  of  men,  when 
death  is  near,  which  always  commends  them  with  sol- 
emn force  to  the  minds  of  the  hearers;  and  in  the  case 
liefore  us,  this  source  of  interest  is  heightened  by  the  fact 
that  the  speaker  is  one  of  those  Scripture  worthies, 
whom  we  call  the  Patriarchs.  Away  back  in  the  olden  time 
— a  time  so  old  that  the  farthest  antiquity  of  profane  his- 
tory is  young  in  comparison—  these  grey  fathers  of  the 
world  come  forth  before  us,  to  act,  to  speak,  to  die.  All 
the  witchery  ol^Eld,  that  poets  feel,  floats  around  their 
names;  and  yet  nothing  can  be  more  simply  true  to  nature, 
and  more  replete  with  sober,  practical  piety,  than  the  images 
of  them  which  we  contemplate  in  the  Bible.  God  seems  to 
have  been  always  near  to  them.  They  literally  w^alked  with 
him.  The  complicated  apparatus  of  second  causes,  of 
natural  laws  and  agents  which,  in  our  view,  now,  so  gener. 
ally  stands  between  the  Creator  and  Governor  of  the  uni- 
verse and  the  creatures  whom  he  has  made,  is  absent  in 
this  case,  and  every  event  with  them  comes  directly  from 
the  hand  of  God,  and  every  step  they  take  is  in  obedience 
to  a  mandate  from  Ins  lips.  These  things  invest  their  bio- 
graphies with   a  peculiar  interest. 

315 


316  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

But  there  is  another  and  a  different  reason  that  I  would 
assign  why  the  words  of  Jacob,  and  the  testimony  given  by 
him  in  the  text,  are  entitled  to  our  attention.  It  is  that 
he  was  in  all  respects,  though  a  Patriarch,  an  ordinary 
man.  In  nothing  does  he  seem  to  have  been  remarkable. 
He  was  gifted  apparently  with  no  talents  that  elevated  him 
above  the  common  level  of  humanity.  lie  had  just  the 
usual  measure,  and  just  the  usual  mixture  of  good  and  bad 
qualities  in  his  character;  and  his  life  was  the  fair  type  of  the 
life  of  men  generally.  In  his  youth  (from  his  own  misconduct 
too),  he  was  obliged  to  leave  his  father's  house  and  emi- 
grate to  a  distant  region.  He  was  poor,  for  as  he  says  in 
one  place,  his  staff  was  his  only  possession,  when  he  passed 
over  the  Jordan  on  his  way  to  Padan-aram.  There,  after 
many  years  of  hard  labor,  in  the  capacity  of  a  shepherd, 
after  many  disappointments  and  many  contests  with  subtle 
and  mercenary  relatives,  he  amassed  a  fortune.  There  he  mar- 
ried and  reared  a  family.  In  his  domestic  experience  he 
had  probably  about  the  usual  allotment  of  joy  and  sorrow. 
With  many  blessings,  he  liad  many  trials — such  trials  as 
are  the  natural  fruit  of  the  corrupt  passions  which  dwell 
originally  in  the  heart  of  every  child  of  J.dam.  He  wept 
over  the  disgrace  of  a  daughter,  and  over  the  violence  and 
cruelty  of  his  sous.  Like  other  men  he  tasted  the  bitter 
cup  of  bereavement.  His  favorite  child  was,  as  he  sup- 
posed, torn  to  pieces  by  wild  beasts,  and  in  the  depth  of 
his  grief,  he  felt  that  he  should  go  mourning  to  his  grave. 
Rachel,  the  idol  of  his  early  love,  died  suddenly  while  he 
was  on  a  journey;  and  with  a  heavy  heart  he  left  her  sleep- 
ing in  a  land  of  strangers.  And  in  his  last  days,  too,  as 
not  unfrequently  happens,  he  had  troubles.  For  seven  suc- 
cessive years  the  land  refused  to  yield  its  increase,  till 
famine  stalked  abroad  in  all  its  horrors,  and  the  Patriarch 
and  his  children    were    in    danger  of    perishing    for  want  of 


THE  PATRIARCHS  RETROSPECT.  317 

breiid.  Aiul  even  when  relief  presented  itself  to  bim  iii 
Egypt,  the  strange  conduct  of  the  ruler  there  towards  his 
sons,  filled  him  with  alurm  and  gave  him  good  cause  to 
fear  that  every  expedition  they  made  to  buy  corn  would 
end  in  tiieir  captivity  or  death.  And  then  after  the  dis- 
covery of  Joseph,  he  was  obliged,  at  -the  age  of  a  hundred 
and  twenty  years,  to  become  a  wanderer  again  and  move 
from  the  country  of  his  birth  and  the  graves  of  his  kindred, 
to  a  distant  and  idolatrous  land.  There,  at  last,  a  tranquil 
evening  closed  his  life's  changeful  day;  and  with  his  chil- 
dren and  his  children's  children  around  him,  he  yielded  up 
the  ghost  and  was  gathered  unto  his  people. 

The  troubh'S  which  Jacob  experienced  make  him  a 
sufferer;  but  nc-t  a  sufferer  in  any  extraordinar}'  degree. 
They  were  such  troubles  as  almost  all  persons  are  called  up- 
on more  or  less  to  undergo,  in  this  world  of  vicissitude. 
Poverty,  labor,  injustice  from  evil-minded  men,  disappoint- 
ment and  sulfering  from  the  misconduct  of  children,  be- 
reavement, privation,  failure  of  plans  and  unexpected  and 
trying  changes — these  are  things  that  enter  into  the  lot  of 
mankind  everj'where.  And  this  it  is — this  similarit}'  in  the 
experience  of  Jacob  to  that  which  men  ordinaril}'  meet  with, 
that  makes  the  testimony  of  the  dying  Patriarch  worthy  of 
particular  attention  from  us  all.  "What  he  was,  we  are,  or 
may  expect  to  be.  He  stands  at  the  terminaton  of  the 
great  highway  along  which  we  are  all  traveling;  and  is  it 
not  cheering  to  us  to  have  his  voice  borne  back  to  us  in 
such  tones  as  it  breathes  in  the  text?  The  God  who  had 
presided  over  his  history  and  had  ordered  all  his  steps 
(and  who  is  doing  the  same  for  us),  he  calls  a  "God  who 
had  fed  him  all  his  life  long,  and  the  Angel  who  had  re- 
deemed him  from  all  evil."  Such  testimony,  such  an  ex- 
pression of  his  views  of  God's  conduct  towards  him  is 
cheering    to    us,   because    it    encourages    us    to    hope,    that 


318  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

changeful  as  may  be  the  phases  of  our  experience  in  pass- 
ing through  life,  the  closing  view — the  revelations  of  the 
sunset  hour — will  enable  us,  too,  to  see  the  all-einbraciug 
goodness  of  the  Providence  that  has  presided  over  oar  career. 

There  had  been  times  in  the  course  of  Jacob's  life 
when  his  testimony  seems  to  have  been  of  a  different  char- 
acter; when  under  the  pressure  of  some  present  distress,  his 
heart  was  filled  with  despondency  and  his  lips  with  com- 
plaints. When  Joseph's  coat,  stained  wit^^h  blood,  was  sliown 
to  him,  so  keen  and  overwhelming  was  his  grief,  that  he 
refused  to  be  comforted.  He  refused  even  to  allow  that 
there  could  be  any  comfort  or  joy  remaining  to  him  this 
side  of  the  grave.  And  when  after  the  lirst  visit  of  his 
sons  to  Egypt,  he  learned  that  Simeon  had  been  detained 
as  a  prisoner  and  that  Benjamin  must  go  down  with  his 
brethren  when  they  next  returned,  he  exclaimed,  '-Me  have 
ye  bereaved  of  my  children.  Joseph  is  not,  and  Simeon  is 
not,  and  ye  will  take  Benjamin  away.  All  these  things  are 
against  me."  When  he  looked  back  from  his  death  bed, 
however,  he  saw  that  all  these  things  had  not  been  against 
him.  He  could  include  in  his  view  all  those  trying  emer- 
gencies that  seemed  at  the  moment  of  their  occurrence,  not 
only  to  blast  his  joys,  but  even  to  deny  him  the  solace  of 
hope,  and  say  of  all  the  course  of  God's  dispensation  with 
him,  "He  is  the  God  who  hath  fed  me  all  my  life  long, 
the  Angel  who  hath  redeemed  me  from  all  evil." 

And  this  suggests  the  first  lesson  I  would  draw  from 
this  text,  which  is,  that  the  proper  standpoint  at  which 
men  should  place  themselves  when  they  survey  and  judge 
of  the  conduct  of  God's  Providence  towards  them,  is 
the  terminating  point  of  their  career — that  point  which  a 
Christian  occupies,  who  calmly,  intelligentl}^,  and  hopefully, 
lies  down  to  die.  I  say,  "a  Christian,"  for  no  one  but  a 
Christian  is  able  to    understand  or   estimate  fairly  the  bear- 


THE  PATRIARCHS  RETROSPECT.  319 

ing  of  the  policy  which  God  in  his  providence  has  pursued 
towards  him.  To  one  who  is  not  a  Christian,  there  are 
man}'  departments  of  this  policy  which  must  always  be  un- 
intelligible. As  the  Apostle  says  of  the  things  of  the  Spirit 
of  God,  so  it  may  be  said  to  a  great  degree,  of  the  things 
of  the  Providence  of  God.  The  natural  man  "receiveth 
them  not,  '  for  they  are  foolishness  unto  him,  neither  can 
he  know  them,  because  the}'  are  "spiritually  discerned." 
But  the  dying  hour  which  religion  illumines  and  tranquil- 
izes,  when  that  hour  is  permitted  to  be  one  in  which  the 
mind  can  act  rationally,  furnishes  the  point  of  view,  from 
which  men  may  with  propriety  and  safety,  examine  and 
pronounce  upon  the  ways  of  God  concerning  them  in  this 
life.  When  the  shadows  are  gathering  over  the  world  and 
the  clock  is  telling  the  last  minute  of  departing  day, 
men  may  sit  down  to  write  the  history  of  the  day.  Then 
they  may  atHrm  something  definite  of  its  character;  then 
they  may  make  a  fair  estimate  of  its  incidents  and  results. 
When  the  storm  spirit  was  abroad  and  the  sun  was  bid 
behind  the  rolling  cloud,  and  the  winds  were  rioting  through 
the  earth,  and  the  heavens  were  pouring  out  their  beating 
rain-floods,  it  would  have  been  premature  to  draw  the  pic- 
ture of  the  day.  The  evening  hour,  perhaps,  will  disclose 
a  spectacle  of  brightness  and  beauty  which  owed  its  exist- 
ence entirely  to  the  temporary  fury  of  the  raid-day  storm. 
A  deeper  blue  will  be  found  in  the  sky,  a  richer  green  up- 
on the  field,  a  gladder  warble  in  the  throat  of  the  bird,  and 
a  keener  sense  of  joy  in  the  heart  of  every  living  thing, 
than  would  have  been  seen  or  heard  or  felt,  had  no  cloud 
veiled  the  sun,  and  no  convulsion  agitated  the  atmosphere. 
We  are  all  too  hasty,  too  arbitrary,  brethren,  in  our  judg- 
ments of  God.  We  do  not  trust  our  Father  far  enough,  nor 
long  enough.  "\\  e  spring  to  a  conclusioi  .>s  to  the  character 
of  his  dealings  with    iis    from  every    thorn    or    flower,   from 


320  '  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

every  spot  of  gloom  or  sunshine,  that  meets  us  in  the  way 
in  which  be  is  leading  us;  rather  than  suspend  our  opinions 
and  patiently  possess  our  souls,  till  we  have  reached  the 
end  of  our  way,  and  have  gained  a  point  where  we  may 
see  all  the  results  of  the  way,  and  the  bearing  upon  these 
results  of  the  thorns  and  the  (lowers,  the  gloom  and  the 
sunshine,  that  may  have  met  us  as  we  trod  the  way.  Let 
us  place  ourselves  as  far  as  we  can  in  the  position  of  the 
dying  servant  of  God,  or  rather,  if  we  are  Christians,  let 
us  endeavor  to  occupy  in  imagination  the  position  in  which 
we  ourselves  are  to  stand  in  a  little  while,  when  our  dying 
hour  has  arrived.  The  testimony  that  we,  standing  there, 
would  give  of  God  and  his  providential  dealings  towards  us, 
would  be  expressed,  I  doubt  not  correctly,  in  the  words  of 
the  Patriarch,  "The  God  who  hath  fed  us,  all  our  lives 
long,   the  Angel  who  hath  redeemed  us  from  all  evil." 

First,  from  that  point  the  Christian  will  appreciate 
fully  and  in  their  continuity,  these  acts  of  providential 
goodness  by  which  God  had  manifested  his  care  for  him 
during  his  life.  "He  hath  fed  me  all  my  life  long,"  said 
Jacob.  So  simple  a  thing  as  the  daily  supply  of  food, 
comes  to  his  remembrance  now.  In  the  heat  and  hurry  of 
healthy  life,  when  our  desires  and  appetites  are  all  in  exer- 
cise, when  our  thoughts  are  continually  bounding  from  the 
present  to  the  future,  and  our  craving  natures  are  turned 
away  from  the  things  possessed  to  something  better  hoped 
for  aud  yet  to  come,  we  forget,  we  are  insensible  to,  the 
crowd  of  blessings  with  which  God  is  surrounding  us. 
While  life  itself  is  held,  so  to  speak,  as  a  palpable  posses- 
sion in  our  hands,  and  a  possession  which  we  are  striving 
to  turn  to  various  selfish  accounts,  we  lose  sight  of  the 
thousand  arrangements  which  Providence  is  making  for 
the  comfort  and  support  of  life.  But  when  we  feel  that 
we  are    done  with    life — when    desire    fails,   and    the  future 


THE    PATRIARCHS    RETROSPECT.  321 

rises  no  more  before  us,  fascinating  us  with  its  visions  of 
possible  good — wc  can  see  witli  a  calm,  clear  eye  the  munifi-. 
cent  and  unwasting  bounty  that  has  ministered  from  day  to 
day  and  from  hour  to  hour  to  our  happiness.  The  bless- 
ings that  escaped  our  notice  while  we  were  engaged  in 
the  fervid  prosecution  of  our  worldly  schemes,  will  then 
all  come  out  distinctly  to  view.  The  wear}'  traveler 
arrived  at  the  end  of  his  journey,  will  see  the  things  that 
contributed  to  his  enjoyment  by  the  way;  and  will  wonder 
at  the  variety  and  multitude  of  them.  How  many  have 
been  his  wants,  and  yet  how  constantly  have  they  been 
supplied!  When  did  his  bread  fail,  or  his  spring  dry  up? 
In  every  place  where  he  has  been,  his  kind,  thoughtful 
Benefactor  has  been  with  him,  spreading  his  table  and  his 
couch,  and  crowning  him  with  tokens  of  his  goodness.  He 
can  trace  back  every  year,  he  can  go  through  the  history 
of  his  childhood  and  youth  and  maturer  life,  and  every 
where  he  sees  the  same  stream  of  mercy  flowing  along  and 
refreshing  him  with  its  grateful  tide.  He  is  amazed  that 
God  has  never  forgotten  him ;  that  he  has  never  grown 
weary  in  attending  upon  his  interests;  that  under  so  many 
and  such  various  circumstances,  and  in  such  a  succession 
of  exigencies,  his  bounty  has  always  come  promptly  and 
freely  to  his  relief.  Oh,  my  friends,  how  blind  are  we  now 
to  the  manifold  goodness  of  God!  How  little  we  reflect 
upon  the  countless  conditions  that  must  be  harmonized,  in 
order  to  the  attainment  of  success  in  any  one  of  the  most 
trivial  enterprises  that  we  undertake!  And  yet  how  con- 
stantly God  is  producing  happiness  for  us  all!  And  how 
constantly'  he  is  permitting  us  to  succeed  in  our  plans!  If 
we  could  bring  more  of  the  calmness  and  trutlifuluess  of 
death  unto  life,  we  should  see  these  things  better.  We 
should  see  what  is  implied  in  the  continuance  and  continued 
pleasantness  of  life.     We  should  see,   in  every  ray  of  light, 


322  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

in  every  breath  of  the  wind,  in  every  pulsation  of  our 
hearts,  in  every  article  of  food  that  pleases  our  palates  or 
nourishes  our  body,  a  demonstration  of  the  Almighty's  love; 
and  we  should  feel  like  turning  to  God  every  hour  of  every 
day  with  all  the  dying  Patriarch's  sincerity,  and  devoutly  ac- 
knowledging him  as  "the  God  who  has  fed  us  all  our  lives 
long."  But  men  are  so  absorbed  in  the  exercise  of  living, 
so  engaged  in  applying  life  to  ends  of  their  own,  that  such 
revelations  are  genei'ally  delayed  till  a  dying  hour.  Then, 
the  children  of  God  are  almost  universally  found  bearing 
testiuKjny,  with  wondering  gratitude,  to  his  goodness.  Like 
a  disinterested  spectator,  standing  apart  from  the  scene  he 
surveys,  they  can  then  look  over  all  the  way,  in  which  God 
has  led  them;  and  they  can  mark  all  the  varied  and  elabo- 
rate machinery  of  benevolence,  which  he  has  constructed 
along  the  path. 

And  more  than  this;  there  is  a  quality  of  sweetness 
which  they  can  detect  in  the  blessings,  which  they  have 
enjoyed,  from  the  fact  that  it  is  God  who  has  given  them. 
Food  is  pleasant  in  itself.  It  is  a  boon  for  which  exhausted 
nature  feels  bound  to  be  thankful;  but  food  from  the  hand 
of  one  who  loves  us,  and  who  has  been  the  benefactor  of 
our  fathers  before  us,  is  doubly  pleasant  because  of  the 
source  from  which  it  comes.  Jacob's  grateful  acknowledg- 
ment does  not  relate  to  the  bare  fact  that  his  wants  had  been 
supplied  through,  life.  It  relates  chiefly  to  the  fact  that  it 
was  God  who  had  supplied  them;  and  the  same  God  who 
had  been  the  guide  and  the  friend  of  his  fathers  Isaac  and 
x\braham.  The  daily  enjoyments  which  I  experience  are 
valuable  to  me  from  their  intrinsic  tendency  to  make  me 
happy.  And  did  they  come  to  me  from  a  mere  mechanical 
laboratory,  such  as  some  men  make  Nature  to  be — where 
there  was  no  intelligence,  no  design,  or  ati'ection,  still  as  they 
came  to  me  they  would  be  valuable.      But  how  inexpressibly 


THE    patriarch's    RETROSPECT.  323 

sweeter  they  are  to  me,  vvlien  I  know  that  no  blind  machine 
has  fabricated  them,  and  scattered  them  in  heartless  munifi- 
cence abroad;  but  that  all  have  come  direct  from  the  band 
of  God — the  same  God  that  sustained  and  helped  the 
prophets  and  patriarchs  of  old.  This  thought  twines  a 
famii^'-bond  around  my  heart,  and  makes  me  feel  that  1 
am  a  brother  to  all  the  beings  whom  God  loves.  Abraham's 
cup  lias  passed  down  to  me;  and  the  merciful  parent  who 
filled  it  for  him  is  filling  it  for  me.  I  am  not  a  homeless 
wanderer,  gathering  chance-fruit  along  the  highway  to  keep 
me  from  starving;  but  one  of  a  household  group,  sitting  at 
a  father's  board,  and  enlivened  by  his  kindly-  looks,  while 
I  am  fed  by  his  bounty.  But  this  fact,  that  our  comforts 
and  blessings  are  directly  connected  with  the  hand  of  God 
as  their  source,  is  one  which  we  are  slow  to  realize,  while 
the}'  are  pressing  in  their  abundance  upon  us.  We  are  so 
prone  to  be  so  much  engaged  with  the  gift,  as  to  forget 
the  Giver.  From  this  point  of  view,  however,  where  a  dying 
hour  will  place  us,  we  shall  see  this  connection.  The  gift 
then  will  not  be  so  large  an  object  as  the  hand  that  be- 
stows it.  The  fact  that  we  have  been  fed  will  not  so 
much  occupy  our  thoughts,  as  the  other  fact  that  it  was 
God  who  fed  us.  The  pleasantness  of  our  reminiscences 
will  not  arise  from  the  fact  that  they  present  to  our  view 
so  many  enjoyments  possessed  in  life,  so  much  as  from  the 
fact,  which  they  will  show  us,  that  it  was  the  God  of 
Abraham  and  Isaac,  who  deigned  to  follow  us  with  his  lov- 
ing kindness  and  tender  mercy,  just  as  he  followed  them. 
But  the  text  speaks  farther  of  deliverances — "the  Angel 
which  redeemed  me  from  all  evil,"  said  Jacob.  And  noth- 
ing, I  suppose,  can  seem  to  the  child  of  God,  in  tiie  review 
which  he  makes  of  life  from  its  closing  point,  more  won- 
derful, more  worthy  of  his  gratitude  than  these  deliverances, 
which    have    been    wrought    for    him.      When    they    actually 


324  A    PASTORS    VALEDICTORY. 

occurred,  perhaps  he  did  not  notice  them.  He  did  not  see 
the  evil,  and  hence  did  not  know  of  his  escape;  or  because 
iiis  attention  was  so  divided,  and  his  thoughts  were  so 
soon  called  away  by  other  things,  he  has  not  full}'  estimated 
the  greatness  of  his  deliverances.  He  will  see  them  better 
when  he  comes  to  die.  He  will  see  then  how  thickly  be- 
set with  perils  bis  path  through  life  has  been;  and  how 
often  an  unseen  hand  has  hedged  up  his  path,  or  bridged 
it  over,  or  screened  it,  or  turned  it  about,  to  keep  his  feet 
from  stumbling  into  ruin,  or  to  shield  him  from  the  arrows 
or  the  snares  of  enemies.  An  Angel  has  been  with  him, 
hovering  with  tireless  wings  about  l^is  path,  and  ministering 
in  ways  and  at  times  that  he  little  dreamed  of,  to  his  wel- 
fare. To  this  cause  he  sees  it  now  to  be  owing,  that  he 
escaped  the  temptations  that  enticed  him  in  his  youth,  and 
the  influence  of  an  ungodly  public  example  and  opinions 
which  met  him  when  he  entered  upon  the  scenes  of  the 
busy  world.  Others  by  his  side  fell  into  vicious  practices 
or  iiito  infidelit}',  or  a  seared  stupidity  of  heart  on  the  sub- 
ject of  religion,  and  so  have  died.  But  from  all  these  he 
was  redeemed.  And  from  a  throng  of  natural  evils,  too,  he 
has  been  delivered — evils  which  were  permitted  to  harrass 
and  afflict  thousands  upon  his  right  hand  and  his  left,  but 
which  came  not  nigh  him. 

But,  as  in  the  case  of  Jacob,  tliere  have  been  evils  in 
his  lot  from  which  no  deliverance  has  been  afforded. 
Though  he  has  escaped  much  that  he  might  have  suffered, 
he  has  still  had  his  furnace  and  his  flood  to  pass  through. 
He  has  scars  upon  his  heart  which  tell  of  days  when  that 
heart  agonized  and  bled.  Far  back  in  the  track  of  his 
journey,  he  sees  the  scenes  of  past  trial,  here  a  blasted 
spot  where  the  frost  fell  upon  some  early  joy;  here  a 
scathed  relic,  where  some  towering  hope  had  been  prostrated 
by  the  bolts  of  heaven;  here  a  huge  chasm,    where  bereave- 


THE  patriarch's  RETROSPECT.  325 

meut  had  buried  in  a  moment  the  clustering  pleasures  of  a 
domestic  Edeu;  here  a  rough  hilltop,  over  which  with  self- 
denying  constancy  he  had  to  bear  the  cross  of  persecution 
or  reproach;  aud  here  a  wide,  cheerless  waste  where  pover- 
ty or  sickness  have  scattered  their  flowerless  sands.  As  he 
passed  along,  and  these  trials  met  him,  his  heart  of  flesh 
failed.  Oh,  how  hard  to  bear,  they  seemed!  Any  form  of 
affliction  Init  tiie  one  set  before  him,  he  thought,  would  be 
tolerable.  Any  other  sacrifice  but  the  one  demanded  of 
him,  he  could  make.  Any  other  arrow  from  the  Almighty's 
quiver,  he  could  bare  his  lieari  to,  but  the  one  that  was 
aimed  at  it.  Oh,  "if  it  be  possible,"  he  had  cried,  "let 
this  cup  pass  from  me,"  for  to  drink  seemed  to  doom  him- 
self to  hopeless  woe.  13ut,  it  could  not  be.  He  must  go 
on  through  the  trial.  And  now  it  lies  yonder  far  behind 
him;  and  the  mellow  sunset  ray  is  gilding  it  with  its  soft 
light.  The  Angel  was  with  him  in  the  dark  hour,  and  has 
brought  him  through  it.  The  Angel  has  redeemed  him 
from  all  evil.  Perhaps  he  can  now  see  that  not  one  of 
those  dark  hours  could  have  been  spared;  and  that  without 
them,  his  journey  would  have  failed  to  reach  its  present 
peaceful  termination. 

There  is  another  feature  in  the  view  which  the  believer 
may  take  of  God's  dealings  with  him,  from  his  death-bed, 
which  is  shadowed,  at  least,  by  the  text.  When  Jacob 
speaks  of  the  Angel  as  a  person,  interchangeable  with  God, 
he  is  supposed,  upon  very  good  grounds  (reasoning  from 
the  analogy  of  other  passages  of  the  Old  Testament)  to  re- 
fer to  the  second  person  of  the  Trinity,  to  him  who  is  often 
called  "the  Angel  of  Jehovah,"  and  "the  Angel  of  the 
presence,"  as  being  the  agent  through  whom,  in  various 
ways  from  the  beginning,  and  ultimately  by  actual  incarna- 
tion, the  invisible  Deity  has  revealed  himself  to  man.  It 
was    Christ,   to    whom    the    Patriarch's    dying    thoughts    are 


326  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

supposed  to  have  so  gratefiill}'  turned.  It  was  the  mercy 
of  God  in  Christ — mercy  that  had  its  origin  in  the  cove- 
nant made  witli  Christ,  in  order  to  the  salvation  of  his 
people,  that  liad  sent  him  his  blessings  and  meted  out  lo 
him  his  trials.  This  fact,  this  relation  of  all  his  bless- 
ings and  trials  to  the  covenant  of  redemption  (whether 
Jacob  really  alluded  to  it  in  the  text  or  not)  is  something 
which  is  now  clearly  revealed  to  tlie  cliild  of  God.  And 
it  throws  a  peculiar  light  upon  all  the  course  of  his  experi- 
ence in  the  present  life.  He  has  been  a  redeemed  man  in 
all  this  course  of  experience.  God  has  been  treating  him 
as  such  in  all  his  dealings  with  him.  Everything  that  he 
has  enjoyed,  and  everything  that  he  has  suffered,  may  be 
explained  by  a  reference  to  the  Covenant  of  Redemption. 
Everything  has  been  ordained  in  accordance  with  the  terras 
of  the  Covenant.  Everything  has  had  some  connection  with 
the  purpose  of  God  to  call  him,  and  justify,  and  sanctif}^ 
and  glorify  him  in  Christ.  The  joys  he  has  known  although 
in  outward  form  like  those  which  have  been  allotted  to  un- 
believers, have  had  in  them  something  better  than  the  com- 
mon blessings  of  Providence,  for  they  are  meant  to  form 
the  refreshment  by  the  way,  for  a  soul  for  whom  Christ  had 
died,  and  whom  the  Father  was  leading  to  glory.  His 
sorrows,  too,  have  not  been  common  calamities,  nor  the 
angry  judgment  of  God.  They,  also,  have  had  in  them  a 
savor  of  redeeming  mercy.  They  are  the  chastisements  of 
love;  the  pruning  that  makes  the  tree  fair  and  fruitful;  the 
polishing  that  fits  the  jewel  for  its  place  in  the  monarch's 
crown.  Thus  it  is  that  the  Angel  has  been  redeeming  him 
continually,  and  has  been  making  all  things  bear  upon 
the  successful  accomplishment  of  that  great  work  of  re- 
demption, which  he  effected  when  he  died  for  his  salvation. 
There  are  other  features  akin  to  this,  which  distinguish 
the  aspect  that  God's  Providences  assume    to    his  children's 


THE    patriarch's    RETROSPECT.  H2~ 

eyes  when  they  look  back  upon  them  from  a  dying  bed, 
upon  which  I  might  enhirge,  but  to  which  I  can  only  make 
a  passing  allusion,  now.  Along  with  all  these  providences 
it  will  then  be  seen,  for  instance,  that  that  Divine  influence 
which  we  call  grace  has  been  communicated;  fitting  the  in- 
dividual to  receive  and  use  them  for  the  purposes  for  which 
they  were  sent.  Ic  is  this  grace,  or  those  dispositions, 
views,  purposes,  and  efforts,  which  God  has  inspired  within 
him  which  have  kept  him  from  being  ruined  by  his  bless- 
ings, and  hardened  by  his  afflictions.  By  this  grace  it  is 
that  he  has  been  guided,  supported  and  saved.  By  grace 
he  has  been  aided  in  attaining  all  that  he  has  of  good,  and 
restrained  from  falling  into  all  that  he  might  have  con- 
tracted of  evil.  Heaven  has  breathed  this  life-giving  atmos- 
phere around  him,  to  keep  him  from  inhaling  death  from 
the  corruption  that  is  in  the  world.  And  grace,  thus,  has 
made  him  not  of  the  world,  though  in  the  w'orld,  and 
though  apparently,  in  most  of  the  phases  of  his  experience, 
like  tbe  world.  Another  feature  in  the  dealings  of  God, 
which  he  will  see  at  last,  is  that  all  tbings  work  together 
for  good  to  them  that  love  God,  and  are  called  according 
to  his  purpose.  Jacob  doubtless  saw  this  when  he  uttered 
the  text.  It  is  hard  to  see  it  sometimes,  now;  but  it  is  un- 
questionably true,  and  the  dying  believer  will  in  all  proba- 
bility, be  enabled  to  see  that  it  has  been  true  in  his  own 
case.  He  will  see  that  spiritually  (which  is  the  only  sense 
in  which  he  will  regard  anything  as  of  importance,  when 
death  is  at  hand),  spiritually,  he  is  better  for  all  the  ar- 
rangements and  all  the  discipline  that  God  has  adopted 
concerning  hira,  than  he  could  have  been  without  them. 
No  threads  in  the  nicely  woven  tissue  of  Providence,  be  it 
dark  or  light,  will  appear  superfluous.  All  were  needed  to 
array  him  in  the  garment  of  holiness,  in  which  he  is  about 
to  see    the    Lord.      And,   lastly,  all    these    dealings    of  God 


328  A  pastor's  valedictory. 

interpreted  in  the  various  ways  that  I  have  already  men- 
tioned, will  (as  a  consequence)  wear  one  aspect  more  to  the 
believer's  dying  eye,  and  that  is,  that  of  precursors  and 
earnests  of  heaven.  The  little  rill,  whether  dancing  in  the 
sunbeam,  or  swollen  with  the  shower,  is  rushing  on  still  to 
the  ocean;  and  the  testimony  of  every  murmuring  wave, 
could  we  read  it,  is,  that  there  is  an  ocean,  towards  which 
it  is  hastening.  So  the  Christian's  history  here,  whatever 
be  the  aspect  of  it  at  any  particular  moment,  is  all  a 
prophecy  of  heaven.  His  jo3's  and  his  sorrows,  his  strug- 
gles and  his  conquests,  all  point  towards  heaven.  All  tell 
him  now,  that  God  loves  him,  and  that  his  purposes  to- 
wards him  are  full  of  mercy;  and  this  love  and  mercy  are 
pledges  to  him  of  heaven.  The  oath  and  the  promise  of 
God,  which  secure  eternal  life  to  all  who  believe  in  Jesus 
Christ,  have  been  written  over  and  over  again,  on  every 
page  of  his  daily  experience;  and  though  in  his  dullness  and 
heedlessness,  he  may  have  failed  to  see  them  at  the  moment 
when  they  were  written,  he  will  see  them  all  in  the  light 
of  his  dying  hour.  And  they  will  make  his  dying  hour  the 
dawn  of  heaven.  They  will  rise  before  his  failing  e3'es  like 
the  morning-star,  and  while  he  gazes  at  them,  time  will 
glide  into  eternity,  the  mortal  will  put  on  immortality,  the 
star-beam  will  melt  away,  and  lo,  the  heavens  will  grow 
strangely  bright  around  him,  for  his  soul  will  have  passed 
into  glory. 


(^ 


!<; 


^^ 


